Fractured
by After Today
Summary: Luke thought the loss of his mother was a hard blow. Angela was forced to leave behind everything she knew and loved to start anew. Both have faced trials. But nothing could compare to the events of one humid Fall night. Rated T for language and content.
1. Fractured

**Fractured**

_Luke's Point of View_

"Huh…?" I awoke late one night (or really, really early in the morning, I was too groggy to tell) to find an empty side of the bed. I blinked sleep from my eyes and yawned. A quick glance at the bedside clock radio revealed that it was just after midnight.

"Angela…" Where was that girl? I know that farmers arise early- I've been waking up at 5:45 a.m. every morning for the past three seasons to make this particular farmer's daily meal- but this was ridiculous.

There was no reply.

I groaned softly, and then pulled myself out of bed. Carefully, I made my way through the darkness over to the bathroom, where a dim light was shining from under the door. The door wasn't shut completely, so I leaned against the door.

"Angela. Angie. Come on. It's late. Get in bed."

Again, the only sound that could be heard was the reverberating echo of my own voice.

"Angie…" I thought that we were past the "morning sickness" phase of pregnancy. According to the book, we were supposed to be moving on to "hemorrhoids" and "stretch marks." Oh, joy. Still, anything was better than watching my wife tossing her cookies while I held her hair away from her face, rubbing her pajama-clad back. Watching, or even hearing, other people hurling made my stomach turn, as well.

What I found in the bathroom was not a crouching Angela, hovering by the toilet with a green face. Oh, how I wished it were in retrospect.

Instead, I saw my wife sitting on the toilet, staring at her pants with puffy eyes. Crimson fluid stained the fabric, and was continuing to stream down her toned legs. Her hands were cradling her swollen stomach. Even as I entered the bathroom, she did not look up.

I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I had to reach out my hand and grasp the sink counter to stabilize myself. "Wha…" I heard myself say. That was all it took for Angela to burst into a fresh round of tears. Not your typical, "oh-I'm-so-sad-because-so-and-so" tears either, the sort that could be wiped away with a funny joke, or a hug. This crying was utterly silent; the kind that only happened when you were terrified, heartbroken, or a combination of both. The kind of crying that scared the hell out of me.

"Luke…" she gasped. I shook my head, and then grabbed her hands, gently pulling her off of the toilet.

"Let's go."

_______________________________________________________________

The steady pulsating of the equipment in the Clinic was intimidating. It was driving me crazy. It seemed illogical. My whole world was falling apart, and it felt to me that everything else in the world should be too.

At first, Irene had started to tell me that I couldn't stay by my wife's side as they tended to her. Yeah freaking right. I could feel my face molding into what Angela called my "stubborn cow expression." My eyes watered at the memory.

The mechanical beeping droned on as I clutched my best friend's hand nervously. She was lying there peacefully, paper-thin lids shut tightly. Every now and then, her eyes would flutter, she would mutter something incoherent, and fall back asleep. All the while, her hands never left her bulging belly. Dr. Jin and Irene were "discussing" quietly in the corner.

Around 8 a.m. Dr Jin hesitantly come up to me. Angela was awake by then, and she hadn't said a word or shed a single tear. Her lip quivered as the black-haired doctor approached.

"I'm sorry."

Two words sent my world crashing down. I sank down to my knees as Angela choked out a sob. I shut my eyes, and, though I've never considered myself really religious, managed to piece together a fevered prayer.

_Harvest Goddess, if this is punishment for something I've done… please. Please. Not our baby._

_______________________________________________________________

The memorial service for our unborn child was the saddest, most infuriatingly difficult event I have ever had to experience. My mother's cruel and confusing disappearance in my life was easier to stomach than this.

My wife's face conveyed no emotion. Her features were carved out of stone, and yet, tears still managed to creep out of the corners of her tortured eyes. As we stood in the bitter cold, staring at the crude gravestone, she grasped my hand like it was her only lifeline, the last thread keeping her from breaking apart. I pulled her into my arms, and she melted into my body.

The funeral party was entirely clad in black, a sharp contrast to the white snow that was starting to fall. Everybody attended the funeral treated us like porcelain dolls. I can't really blame them- what do you say to parents who lose their kids?

_"I'm so sorry…"_

Yeah, well, we are too. It doesn't make anything better. Words don't stitch up a broken heart.

_"It just wasn't meant to be."_

How the hell do you know? This baby could have been the greatest person the world had ever known. We don't even get the opportunity to find out, because it "wasn't meant to be"?That's fucked up, plain and simple.

"_Hey, don't worry about it. You can always try again."_

It's not as simple as that. This baby wasn't just a "fetus" to us. We had already added on a nursery, had already started picking out names we liked; hell, Angela had even started to buy scrap booking supplies and baby announcements. We loved this little nudger with everything that we had. That kind of love is not something that you just get over, and try to duplicate in order to fix what's broken.

As the snow cascaded down, coating everyone's bodies and dusting the top of the gravestone, villagers turn around and start to head back to their warm, comfortable homes and get on with their lives. Angela and I stayed at the cemetery, watching the tiny grave as if we were expecting it to implode, until the sun settled behind the mountain range to the west of us.

No one ever warned me of the pain a truly fractured heart would bring.


	2. Broken Words

**Broken Words** Angela's POV

The next few weeks blurred together like the ink on Luke's newspapers. He tried to carry on like normal- we both did, to a degree- but as soon as he opened that paper to the Baby Announcements section, his face would squinch up and he would bang his fist on the table, making his coffee cup quiver perilously, before burying his face into the newspaper and disguising his short-lived sobs with a coughing spell.

For anyone who doesn't know, having a miscarriage _hurts_. Your stomach cramps, your body aches, but, most prominently, you are so numb that you can't do anything but curl up in bed and try not to fall apart.

I had some freaky dreams after "that day." One of the scariest recurring ones was about this tiny little kid, bundled tightly in a blanket. And that was it. The entire dream was me- or Dream-Angela, rather- staring at this innocent little baby. There was nothing truly frightening about it- no monsters chasing me, no morphing of the sweet child into a hideous zombie- and yet I always woke up in a cold sweat.

I suppose people around the valley thought I was bitter, or was being melodramatic, or a blend of the two. Perhaps I was. Like I said, my grip on reality was faltering. Most days, I just didn't feel like doing anything but lie in bed. As I drifted in and out of sleep, either Luke or one of my friends would slip out to the barn and feed my animals. I can remember the day my prized cow calved her first child. I stood on the porch with Luke, watching the cows graze in the field, watching the new one gather her bearings and stumbling around the grassy pasture. I watched unblinkingly until my eyes watered. Turning away, I simply said,

"Sell her."

By the evening, the calf was gone, after Cain had wordlessly led her back to the Brownie Ranch.

Nights were the worst part of the ordeal. Luke would drag himself home from whatever it was that he did to keep his mind off of the baby. He would move like clockwork once inside: first hanging up his jacket, then grabbing a beer from the fridge, and finally, plopping down on his favorite recliner to watch the evening news. I knew he never really payed any attention to Elli's droning about the next Flea Market. Instead, his eyes would fog over as he retreated into himself, the only place left for him to hide. I would stay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the muddled thoughts slinking through my brain. It was all I could do not to bury my face in the pillow and scream. Sometimes I did. Other times I just bawled.

New Year's Eve came and went uneventfully. New Year's Day was just another in a series of dull and pointless weeks.

I had no idea how to mend my relationship with Luke. Any conversation we had seemed broken. I felt like I had lost him. I felt like I had lost myself. All these layers of tragedy and pain seemed to just encase us, until we were just shells of the young, happy people were.

Every night, as I tried desperately to fall asleep, I would sneak a glance over at my restless husband. It wasn't fair. We were the "dream couple," the pair that everyone was jealous of. Every afternoon, as he returned from work, he would pick a flower from my field, come find me, stick it behind my ear, and wrap me in his arms, slowly moving his hands to my ever-growing stomach. We shared the domestic responsibilities- he cooked breakfast, I made dinner; Saturdays were our "clean the house and rock out to whatever was playing on the local radio, even if Gill had chosen easy-listening tunes" day. We had taken countless trips to the city, putting baby furniture on layaway and splurging on adorable onesies and baby toys.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to us.

I had no idea if my marriage to Luke would ever be the same. Sticks and stones may break one's bones, but silence pierces your heart.

Author's Note: Hmm. I'm not so wild about this chapter. Something about it bugs me. :/

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	3. Wilted Petals

**Wilted Petals**

_Luke's POV_

My recliner had long since lost its plushness, an imprint of my butt permanently etched onto the soft fabric. And yet, there I was, plopped down in that chair like I was every day. I wasn't exactly picky about menial crap like plushness. I just needed support. I guess that applied to almost every area of my life.

Elli's annoying voice resonated through the fuzzy TV screen, giving me my much-welcomed break from thinking. Processing thoughts hurts too much sometimes. If Angie could curl up on our bed and try to forget her troubles, then, sure as hell, I was going to do the same exact thing, except on my recliner.

At the beginning, I had fought to keep our relationship strong. I picked up flowers after work, I cooked dinner, I would hum or sing under my breath. It didn't do any good; Angela saw right through my peppy act, right through to the core. I had fallen in love with her for that reason; now, the tables had turned, and it almost made me resent her. And that made me sick. How could I resent my wife, especially when she needed me most? I guess had always been sensitive to people pushing me away.

I blinked hard, staring at the TV screen. _How the hell can this program be on for an hour and a half? Its just Elli rambling on about the strawberry market and how beautiful the rainbows are at this time of year. Ugh. _My eyes drifted to the calendar that was delicately pinned next to the TV on the flowered wall. Ang was a stickler for planning things in advance; yet another of our differences, as I loved spontaneity. Well, I used to, anyways.

_Hmm. That's weird. There's a little heart drawn around Spring 15. What's Spring 15?_

Oh, shit.

It had to happen eventually. Our first anniversary, I mean. I wasn't prepared for it, though. _We _weren't prepared for it. I had pictured anniversaries as, you know, rose petals scattered on the floor, candlelight flickering in the background, some decent, romantic music playing on the radio for once. It would be kind of hard to live that fantasy if Angela couldn't make it through the day without red, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks.

I had daydreamed, right after our wedding, imagining taking a secret trip to the city to select the highest-quality jewelry my money could buy. _Only the best for Angie, _I remember thinking. Now, it was the thirteenth, and I didn't have so much as a little trinket for her. I didn't even know if she knew our anniversary was two days away. I hadn't had a real conversation with her in so long, it seemed. The best we could do was just to get through the day before the darkness surrounded us. We knew we were alive, but sometimes it felt like we had both died along with the baby.

Like so many times before, that fact made me angry. It made me sad. It made my heart hurt. But this time, it made me get my ass off of my recliner and try to patch up our relationship.

_Creak._

Angela looked up from the book she was reading- or rather, looked up from pretending to read while really just flipping the pages and trying to look occupied. For once, she was out of bed, and she was actually dressed- a rarity, nowadays. "Luke? What are you doing-" she was cut off by me practically shoving a dozen red roses in her face.

"Happy anniversary," I whispered, scooping her body up in my arms. In some register of my mind, I noted how thin she had become. When did that happen?

"Anniversary?" Angela said, shaking her head. "Funny. You know our anniversary isn't until the…" she cut herself off this time, counting in her head. She spun around to glance at the calendar. "Oh, _shit, _Luke," she said, turning back around to face me. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I forgot. How could I forget our anniversary? I'm so sorry, I…"

"Hey, hey, hey," I soothed, running my thumb under her eye. "It's okay. I didn't expect you to. Don't cry. I wanted tonight to be happy for you. Please don't cry." My soothing tone had taken on a desperate note. I couldn't stand it if Angela cried tonight. I just needed one night of happiness. If I could get her even to smile, my mission would be complete.

Leading her back over to our little wooden table, I pulled out her chair, and gently pushed her down into it. Rummaging through our junk drawer, I found the lighter and a tea light, and lit a tiny fire. I then sauntered over to the kitchen, and whipped out one of Chase's legendary pastas from the fridge. "For you, mademoiselle," I drawled in an exaggerated French accent as I served the pasta onto our best china (a wedding present from Angela's aunt Denise.) She grinned at me, and, I swear to Goddess, it was like the sun coming out.

I served myself a plate, and sat down across the table from my gorgeous bride. The candlelight flickered as we stared at each other.

She started the conversation, which kind of surprised me. "So, uh, this is really good," she cleared her throat and motioned to her food.

"Uh huh," I agreed, swallowing a steamy mouthful.

"It's very…herby," she offered, picking up a piece of parsley with her fork to demonstrate her point.

"Definitely herby." Oh, great. Why, oh WHY, were my vocal cords failing me NOW? I had planned conversations in my head, mapped out nearly every single second of our evening, and it had all flown right out of my head. _The smile. I blame the smile_. _Threw me off guard._

"This is really nice, Luke," Angela whispered, putting her fork down. "I feel so bad. I didn't get you anything. I didn't even remember. And everything is perfect, and you put so much work into this, and this isn't how I wanted our first anniversary to be!" Tears had welled up in her eyes again.

_Damn it! This was going so well. _

I took a deep breath. "Angie. Hon. Listen to me." A tear slid down her cheek, but she bit her lip and nodded. "I love you. I want you to be happy. That's the only thing that really matters to me. OK? I don't need little gifts, or tiny things that I'll probably end up breaking anyways. I need _you._"

She half-laughed, half-cried at that, and I got up to pull her into my arms. She kissed me then, and I kissed her right back. Her hands snaked around my neck, her fingers knotting in my long, blue hair. The wedding ring that she never took off of her finger scraped the back of my neck, but I didn't care. I pulled her infinitesimally closer to me and pressed my hands tightly on her back, rubbing small, methodical circles.

She untangled her hands from my hair to unbutton my shirt, and she wrapped her legs around mine. I slid my hands under her shirt, feeling the smooth, cold skin of her stomach beneath my calloused fingers.

And then, as soon as it had started, Angela broke away from me. Her face crumbled as she gasped, and she buried it in her hands.

"I'm sorry, Luke, I just- I can't. It hurts too much," she cried. She sank to her knees on the floor, shoulders heaving, but no sobs could be heard. I think she had cried out all of her tears. I kneeled down next to her.

"It's okay, Angie. Everything's going to be okay." I pulled her into my lap, and she buried her face in my chest. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay," I murmured. I rocked her back and forth, like a mother does to soothe her crying toddler who got the wind knocked out of him.

We sat there in that position, our bodies meshed together in an awkward hug, until the ringing of the clock in the Town Square startled us both. I got up, and pulled Angela up with me. "I got you something," I whispered. "Hold on a second." She sniffled as I slipped outside.

"Close your eyes," I instructed as I opened the door back. She did so, but I didn't trust her.

"And KEEP THEM CLOSED, you little sneak!" I laughed. She smirked, and her eyes shut all the way. I entered the house, shut the door firmly behind me, adjusted the bow on my present to her, and then, with a deep breath, announced, "Okay, you can look now."

She opened her eyes, a smile on her face. Looking at me, she glanced around for her present. When she saw it, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and her jaw dropped. Slowly staring back up at me, she whispered in disbelief,

"You got me a _puppy?_"

A/N: Awww. I want a puppy…

**Pretty sweet of Luke, dontcha think? The puppy might be the exact thing Angela needs right now- a faithful, loyal companion who loves her unconditionally, no matter what the occasion. But, on the other hand, it might just seem to be a substitute for the lost baby…**

**I guess the only way to find out is to keep reading! And while you're waiting for updates, REVIEW! Seriously. I thrive on those. It's like my high. Go on, click on the little button. It's not that hard. Honestly. I wouldn't lie to you.**


	4. Crashing Skies

**Authors Note: Thank you all for reviewing! **

**LupinandHarry: Yes, Luke is a sweetie. That's one of the reasons he's actually in the fic. I needed a balance. And he's justsocute.**

**Shy Saya: Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! **

**waterfall42: Another reason I used Luke; I wanted him to be more the romantic, "let's get through this" one. And you can't do that if you forget your anniversary, can you? And here's the next installment! YAY! *throws confetti***

**kittykyo: It might end happily…it might not… the only way to find out is to keep reading! I can tell you that I have a couple of curveballs up my sleeve! ;)**

**WITHERED: Bittersweetness rocks sometimes. If it's portrayed sensitively, that is. ;) **

**Okay, so, here's the next installment, "Crashing Skies." Enjoy! **

**Crashing Skies**

_Angela's POV_

I _hated_ that goddamn dog.

Sure, it was adorable- a spitting image of its mother, the dog who lived at the Brownie Ranch- and made Luke laugh. I guess that in itself should've made me like the dog.

But I didn't.

"Let's name it," Luke suggested, kneeling down on his knees to play with the pup. I secretly scoffed, but pasted a smile on my face. "Um, okay," I agreed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Butterscotch? Taffy? Basil? Tootsie? Brownie? Fudge?" Luke listed, staring at the puppy, who was attacking the leg of a chair viciously.

"Are you hungry or something, dear?" I laughed somewhat spitefully in response to Luke's name choices, discovering my sarcastic tone a millisecond too late. Luke winced.

"Sorry," I sighed.

"What's wrong, Angie? I thought this dog would make you happy." The hurt in Luke's tone and face made my stomach twist. _Stupid Angela. He's only trying to please you, and you respond with bitterness? You're not exactly in a spot to be cross with him, after all; you're the one who forgot your anniversary._

That stupid conscience. It's always around to remind me exactly what I'm doing wrong.

"I- I am happy," I lied. "I just still feel bad that I didn't get you anything."

"I already told you, that's okay," Luke rolled his eyes playfully at me, my sullenness already forgotten to him. "Now, help me pick out a name."

I crouched down next to Luke, who pulled me down on his lap and kissed my hair. "Hmm…" I murmured, closing my eyes.

He continued to recite names out to me, and I would make a noncommittal noise in response to each one. As the candlelight began to die out, I curled up tighter in Luke's lap and promptly fell asleep.

*-*-*-*

The next day, the yet-to-be-named puppy bawling by the door awakened me. I blinked, looked around, and groaned. Both Luke and I had fallen asleep, meshed together on the floor, and had forgotten to let the little rodent out to relieve himself. So, the little bugger decided to use my clean floors as primo toilet space.

"What's that smell?" Luke muttered, sitting up. He wrinkled his nose, and looked at me. I returned the glance. "It's your dog," he said defensively. I was about to argue right back at him when the door swung open.

"Oh, puppy poo," I heard Luke whisper. How apt that statement was.

"Mother?" I gaped

. The stick-thin blonde stood at the door, staring at Luke and me like she had just caught us having sex in a church. Mother had never approved of Luke's high energy or his personality, which she took to be an inflated ego. And to catch him sleeping on the floor with her precious daughter made flames practically spew from her eyes. But she apparently decided to save that topic for a rainy day, since she turned to me with the appearance of a mama hen.

"Oh, my baby," she cooed, pulling me up off of the floor and gathering me up in her arms. "I got here as soon as I could to take care of you- do you have _any _idea how impossibly hard it is to get a ferry into this island? And I couldn't fly, there's no airport here. But, all of that is petty foolishness. Oh, dear, it must have been so hard for you to lose the baby. And, oh, I wasn't even here to take care of you!" She looked sincerely guilty, which embarrassed me to a degree. I wasn't a child. I could handle my miscarriage by myself.

But even thinking about the "m" word made my eyes well up with tears. I sniffled, and my mother sighed heavily. "It's okay, sweet girl. Momma's here now. Just let it all out."

"Well, she _was _doing pretty well last night…" Luke grumbled, gathering the puppy up in his arms. He enjoyed my mother's company as much as she did his. "I'll be back soon, Angela," he said, raising his eyebrows at me. I couldn't tell if he was trying to be funny, or if he was trying to get me to follow him outside, or what, but before I could figure it out, he disappeared out of the door. I stared after him, silently pleading, _Oh, Luke, please don't leave me here with this crazy person who just happened to give birth to me._

"Honestly, dear, I don't know _what _you see in that boy," my mother sighed, shaking her head. "You always had such a good head on your shoulders. What in the world would make you want to settle down with a boy like that? Have you _seen _the color of his _hair_?"

"Oh, Mother, please don't start," I groaned. "I had a bad enough night last night." I slunk down into a chair, propping my head up with two fists.

"Oh, my goodness." My mother immediately sprung into full-fledged "attack" mode. "What's wrong? Were you having cramps? Have you been getting hemorrhoids? Did he…hurt you?" The last part was whispered to me, concern tinting the attempted nonchalance.

"No, Mom," I rolled my eyes. "I forgot our anniversary. It's just been so rough for me, and I didn't even bother to look at the calendar. But, apparently, Luke did, and he was so, so sweet. He bought me roses and lit candles and made pasta. Pasta! Luke actually made dinner, Mother! And I didn't have so much as a card for him! Everything's falling apart!"

She bit her lip, apparently trying to swallow this. "Well… I don't think it was reasonable for him to expect you to remember," she reasoned.

"But he _didn't_ expect me to!" I cried. My eyes were stinging again. "He was so sweet about the whole thing, and he didn't expect a _thing _in return! He said that all he needed was _me._ And do you know what he got me for a present?" I was on a roll now, hiccups and everything. "He got me a _puppy. _And I _hate _that puppy! It's like a freaking consolation prize! 'Hey, sorry, you can't have a kid, but thanks for trying! Here, have this freaking _dog!_' But he was already being so sweet, and he only bought the dog 'cause he wanted me to be happy! He wanted me to have something to take care of!" I gasped. Having a meltdown is very stressful on your lungs, apparently.

My mother looked at me, like she was trying to see right through me. I felt so vulnerable, so miserable, and I knew that she sensed it. We sat in silence for several minutes before she broke the silence.

"Angela, this is clearly stressful for you." _Give the lady a prize, _I thought bitterly. "And I know how hard is must be to be completely isolated from your family on this little island. I mean, we couldn't even contact you to see how you were doing." She went on. I didn't bother to mention that I didn't _want _to contact my nosey family.

"Oh, Mom, it's really not that bad. I mean, there's the phone, and the Internet, and-" I began, but she raised her hand to cut me off.

"I'm not just talking about this instance! Since your wedding last year, the only time you ever even bothered to call me was to tell me that you were pregnant! I'm sick of it, Angela! I've been worried sick about you! And from the reports that the townspeople around here have been giving me, you sound like a wreck! You haven't even left the house since the funeral!" She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and threw the final punch: "I want you to move back home. With me. Start over again, in a way. At least for a while, just so you can heal properly." She stood up, nodded at her own words, and then walked over to the door. I cried out in shock. She hesitated at the door, but proceeded to open it, nearly knocking Luke, who had been pressed against the door, over in the process. She glared at him, and then left the house.

Luke cleared his throat, stared at me, and then awkwardly added, "I, uh, didn't actually make the pasta."

**A/N: *cues spooky cliffhanger voice* Mwah ha ha. I love throwing evil, nosey mothers into the mix.**

**REVIEW, LOVEYS! *Cracks whip* **


	5. Pounding Thunder

**Pounding Thunder**

_Luke's Point of View_

I swear to Goddess, if that woman weren't related to my wife, I'd give her a swift kick between the legs.

How _dare _she insinuate that I couldn't take care of Angela? I had been more supportive of Angela than Naomi- also known as the spawn of Satan whom I would _never _call "Mom"- ever had. Sure, in the last season or so, our relationship had been a little strained, but, under the circumstances, I thought we were holding together pretty well.

Dumbfounded, I watched Naomi stride towards Waffle Town. When she had faded to no more than a speck in the horizon, I whirled back around to face Angela. She stared right back at me. Her face was ashen, and her eyes conveyed her conflicted emotions.

"I, uh, didn't actually make the pasta," I joked, trying futilely to bring some color back into Angela's face. It didn't work. Instead, she buried her face in her hands.

"Hey, hey," I soothed, walking over to her side. "It's okay. How much longer can she possibly be here to bother you? A week? It's not like the ferry's just going to wait around for her." Would it? I had no clue. But I didn't say that out loud.

"It's not that." Her voice was muffled, her hands blocking her mouth.

"Well, what is it, then? Is she making you uncomfortable when she talks about the baby?" Angela and I winced at the same time at the "b" word, but I continued, "I want to help you. Honey, just because she's your mother, doesn't mean-"

"She's right," Angela cut me off.

"Wh- what?" I stammered, hoping desperately that I had misunderstood.

"I _have_ been isolated from my family. It's not fair to them. And, you know, maybe it would be good for me just to…to get away. A change of scenery, you know? Get away from all the memories, just for a little while." She didn't look into my eyes as she said this. Instead, she played with her wedding band, making it a point to look distracted. Her spine was rigid; her body language even more so.

I sat in shocked silence. "So you're just going to run away from this?" I couldn't believe it. I always thought Angela was stronger than that. "I don't think-"

"Maybe it's not _about _morals, and values, and standing strong!" Angela cried, interrupting me again. "Maybe it's about what I need to do! For _me!_" My jaw dropped. "I'm so sick of doing everything goddamned thing for _us, _Luke! I need to be strong, for _us!_ I can't fall apart, because it would damage where _we _are! Ever since we got married, I have not had one single day to think about _myself!"_

"Because your actions don't affect just you anymore!" I yelled back. All of my tension and heartbreak had been piling up for so long, I just exploded. "This marriage is a _partnership! _We work through things together; and you don't always get a clean slate to start over! Shit happens, Angela, but you can't go running to your mommy every single time! This is probably one of the worst things that has ever happened to me in my life! I _wanted_ that baby, I would've made a damn good father, too, like my dad was, but for whatever reason, it didn't work out." Tears sprang to my eyes, but I kept on going. "And I don't get to just up and leave, because I'm trying to keep us together, keep us as strong, if not stronger, then we were before! So if you want to go ahead and leave with your mother, then leave. But don't expect me to be here when you come to your senses."

With that, I turned on my heel, stomped out the door, and slammed the door behind me. The puppy yipped and ran after me. Oops. Forgot I left it outside. But that didn't matter; any hard feelings about being left in the cold were forgotten as the adorable Border collie trailed me to the Caramel Springs.

The gentle lapping of the waterfall always called to me when I was upset. I had grown up in this little town, and there weren't that many places that weren't crammed together and bustling. This was the perfect place to get away, to gather your bearings before you had to go back and face your life.

I plopped down on the supple grass, staring at the waterfall and trying to hold back my tears. It wasn't long, though, before I covered my face in my sleeve and cried, really cried, for the first time in Goddess knows how long.

**A/N: Don't you just want to hug him? **

**OK, so, I'm feeling a bit guilty because Angela is the bitchy, bitter one in this fanfic. Remember, she's hurting, people. But does that give her the right to completely shut her husband out?**

**And where the hell am I going with the whole "momma's coming to take her baby back to the nest" thing?**

**Well, keep reading! And, while you're waiting for updates, review! ^^**


	6. Strangled Afterthought

**Strangled Afterthought**

Angela's Point of View

I honestly couldn't believe what had just happened to me.

I guess that I deserved it. No, I definitely deserved it. But I wasn't expecting my reality check to come from my sweet natured, never-get-mad Luke.

What have I done? I've managed to completely alienate my best friend and ruin my life, all in one fell swoop.

I sobbed quietly into my hands. But this time, there was no one to comfort me, no one to wipe away my tears, no one to tell me that everything was going to be okay. All of that, the tiny little gestures that I had taken advantage of for so long, for _too_ long, had disappeared out that door with Luke.

I did still love him. I loved him more than anything in the entire world. How could I not? He _was_ my world. But it's hard to let anybody see the real you when all you want to do is bury yourself, until you forget who you are. It's hard to love somebody else when you don't even love yourself.

*-*-*-*-*

"Angela. It's Mother. Wake up now."

I blinked, lifting my head up. _Gotta kick this habit of falling asleep randomly..._ I thought groggily. I stole a glance at the clock.

"How can it possibly be half past six…?" I mused to myself. Then I remembered. _Luke's still not back. It's been three hours. _

_What if he doesn't come back this time?_

That thought made me practically double over. I wouldn't blame Luke if he lost all patience with me, all hope for our future. "Screw her! She doesn't love me!" he was probably shouting to the skies. Why wouldn't he? Why should he bother sticking around, when all I seem to do is push him away?

"Angela?" My mother's voice broke through my fevered contemplation. She put a hand on my shoulder, massaging soothingly. "There, there," she clucked. "I know it's going to be hard to leave whatever life you have built here. But, trust me, honey, it's for the best." Her smile was so sickeningly sincere and yet so frighteningly demanding that I immediately shrunk back into the submissive little girl I was growing up.

"I- I need to discuss it with Luke," I could hear myself saying.

"Why?" My mother's tone was exasperated. "Honey, you are a big, capable girl. If you think it's best for you to take a break and go to the city, then you should go. It doesn't have to be permanent. Just… a vacation."

"Why can't Luke go with us?" My voice was whiny, desperate. I needed to find a loophole before I found myself either committed to something I didn't want to do, or committed to a loony bin.

"Well, someone's going to have to take care of your animals and crops," she argued.

"I need to talk it over with my husband."

"Oh, please, don't let me stop you from doing anything." Luke's voice carried over from the doorway, where he was standing, gripping the dog's leash tightly in his hand. His face was slightly swollen, and his eyes were red, which told me that he had been crying. My heart twisted painfully. Anger and hurt burned behind his usually friendly eyes, and he was looking at me like he was trying to figure out who I was.

I wanted to cry out, _"I'm still me! Somewhere, buried deep down, I'm still me!"_ But my mouth seemed to be stapled shut.

"Angela. Just…just go." Luke said. For once, his tone was the bitter one. "Please. I don't want you to stay and be miserable. Just go."

"I don't appreciate the way you are talking to my daughter," Mother snapped, intervening. Luke scoffed in disbelief, shot one more meaningful glance at me, then turned and slammed the door shut again.

My face crumpled, and Mother sighed. "The ferry leaves tomorrow morning at nine. You'll only be gone for a week, tops. Now, if Luke doesn't want to share you with your family for a measly week, then…"

"Oh, Mother, _shut the hell up!" _I yelled at her. "I understand that you don't like Luke, but I love him! He is my husband, and I do not appreciate and I will _not _tolerate you making him out to be such a bad guy, because, honestly, he's the best person I have ever met in my life. I'm sorry that you can't seem to see that." I stood up, glaring silently at her for a minute. For the first time in my life, Mother seemed to back down and be accepting of my words.

Finally, I started again. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Nine sharp."

*-*-*-*-*

I honestly don't know what made me agree to go. I didn't exactly want to. I wanted to stay, and try to fix things with Luke. I knew that my departure would only drive a deeper wedge between us. And yet, there I was, standing on the dock the next morning. My stomach was turning, but I couldn't blame my queasiness on seasickness. This was pure self-hatred.

Luke hadn't come home last night. Friends had whispered in my ear that he had gotten a room at the Inn. I had tossed and turned all night, criticizing every aspect of my life from two months ago on. It was the loneliest I had been in a long while.

Someone had left a note at the Inn for Luke, but minutes were ticking by, and I had yet to see even a lock of blue hair.

Finally, Pascal tapped my shoulder. "Lassie, we really must be off," he rasped, sympathy in his tone and in his eyes. Mother nodded behind him, and opened her mouth-yet again- to add, "He's not going to show, dear. You can call him once we dock in the city."

_This isn't right. I shouldn't be going. This isn't right._ My brain didn't seem to be in cahoots with my heart or my feet, as I boarded the sturdy boat somewhat regretfully.

My friends stared woefully at me, nodding in unspoken understanding. "We'll tell him that you said goodbye," one added. I nodded, tears filling my eyes again. It was a good thing I had sunglasses on, I guess.

The boat pushed off the dock, sailing gently. I stood on the deck, watching the tiny island fade into a speck on the horizon. And it might have been just an illusion, but I could have sworn I saw a flash of blue standing at the dock several minutes after we left.

After about an hour, I went below deck to my room. It wasn't until several hours into our journey that I noticed that, sometime between last night and this morning, my wedding ring had slipped off of my finger.

**A/N: The plot, she thickens! **

**So, Angela departed for the city, against her better judgment. And to lose her wedding band at such a time… I am a cruel and twisted person. .; But it makes for good fanfics, ja? **

**Review, loveys! I updated twice in one day, because I love you so much! That, and I really don't want to do my homework, but I mostly wrote for you. The least you can do is tell me what you think. I challenge you! ******** I honestly couldn't believe what had just happened to me.**

**I guess that I deserved it. No, I definitely deserved it. But I wasn't expecting my reality check to come from my sweet natured, never-get-mad Luke.**


	7. Shattered Pixels

Shattered PixelsLuke's Point of View

Is it just me, or does everything seem dreary when you know something ominous is in your horizon? Because today was one of "those" days, complete with cloudy skies, chilly weather, the whole package.

Earlier that morning I had woken up after an agitated sleep in the hotel room, Puppy (his-definitely a he- standby name until I could think of a better one) licking my face. Blearily, I remembered that Angela was getting on that boat today.

_Goddamn it._

Dropping my throbbing head in my hands, I groaned. I didn't fully understand why she was going. Her mother had come in last night and explained the whole thing to the packed lobby in the Sundae Inn –not knowing that I was standing by the top of the stairwell, listening- and from what I gathered, Angela knew that leaving was so much more than just a vacation.

I had to wonder if she was coming back. This "vacation" was a glaring neon sign that she didn't need me, and she didn't even want me to comfort her. She wanted her mother. It was worse than a bullet to the heart.

Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed, and walked over to the small window in the hallway. From my position, I could see Pascal and Ozzie hauling supplies onto their ferry, sometimes pausing to squint up at the cloudy sky. My heart sunk down to my knees. Adrenaline unexplainably poured through my veins, and I felt the overwhelming urge to _run._ It was my instinct to do so.

When I was little, a bouncing ball of energy, I got on my dad's nerves a lot. He has always been a lot quieter than I could ever be, and he never understood why I would jog after him, firing off questions faster than he could stride away from me. Finally, when his patience ran out, Dad would tell me to go run around the town until I had figured out the answers to my questions. Now, I was hooked on running. I ran when I was happy. I ran when I was sad. I ran when the situation was so bad that if I didn't get out soon, I would probably take my anger out on someone.

Now, I could barely wait until I could get outside before my mind went on autopilot and my feet took control. Puppy could barely keep up with me as I blurred through the town, back towards the lake, past the forest and the mines, around the Brownie Ranch, and back into town before finally arriving, sweaty and panting, at the lighthouse.

I sat down on the cool concrete steps, Puppy settling on the grass beside me. Fuzzily, thoughts were starting to flow throughout my head.

_I still don't understand why she's leaving. I've tried so hard to keep her together, and she just wants to walk away from it all. From me. _

I found a piece of paper and a pen in my pocket. Drawing was another of my escapes. I pressed down hard on the paper and let my hand form random lines on the sheet, and continued to fret about my wife's leave-taking.

_She knows how I feel about this. What if she doesn't come back? What if she decides that it's easier for her to start fresh in the city, and writes me off? What if, if she does come back, she doesn't love me anymore?_

_What if I am reading too much into this?_

_I've needed breaks before, too, _one side of my brain chirped.

_Yeah, but I would never leave if it jeopardized my marriage, _the other side argued.

_What about that carpenter's workshop in the city? _Side A put forth. _I had to leave to go to that right after our wedding._

_That was different. I talked to Angela about that. She told me that it would be fine; that we could always go on our honeymoon later. She actually encouraged me to go._

_ Maybe I should encourage her, too. If she really thinks this is what's best for her, then it doesn't matter how hard it is to let her go, but I have to. _

Man, the conversations I had with myself? They had to stop before I lost whatever sanity I had left.

I looked down before standing up, and the image that I had absentmindedly doodled startled me. The eyes, the face, the smile… it was an exact portrait of Angela. My heart swelled. It was another reassurance that I definitely needed to go see Angela off.

"Come on, Puppy, we're going to the dock," I grinned, grabbing a flower that was growing nearby.

Pumping my feet, I blazed through the village, relieved when I felt the cool sea breeze. But one glance told me I was too late. The ferry was already hundreds of yards away, barely visible on the horizon. My heart clenched. _ Too late. _

Her friends circle around me like vultures surround a fresh carcass."She waited as long as she could," the blonde, Kathy, told me, eyes sympathetically scanning the flowers in my hand.

"She told us to tell you that she loves you," the brunette, Renee, pitched in. I stood there, wordless, watching the boat until it completely faded away. Without saying a word to Angela's friends- I owed them nothing- I turned around and started walking back to the farmhouse.

The old, wooden door slammed shut as I entered the house. Puppy immediately ran over to the bed and hopped up, then proceeded to roll around on the clean sheets. I ignored him and sat down at the table.

"She probably thinks I hate her. And that doesn't help my 'she's never coming back' case, does it, Puppy?" I asked the dog, who sat up and tilted his head at me. I sighed, put my head in my hands, and grunted. The picture I had drawn of Angela felt like heavy lead in my pocket, and it was poking me in the leg rather uncomfortably-

If I were a cartoon character, a light bulb would be flashing obnoxiously over my head. "I'll just write her a letter. No, I'll email her, so she can just get online! I'll do _both!"_ I didn't exactly know why I was so excited at the idea of contacting her. But I couldn't stand it when there was any possibility that the one I loved held a grudge against me. I would follow her around like a puppy dog until I was assured that the waters were calm between us.

As I waltzed over to the computer, something caught my eye, glinting on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, and then dropped it like it had burnt my hand. There, on the floor, was Angela's wedding ring. My jaw dropped, and in that moment, I knew that everything had changed. _Everything. _

Authors Note: Hey you guys. I sincerely have to apologize if this chapter is lacking; I write when I am upset, and boy, am I upset… I just received word that one of my friends passed away this week…

**But enough gibber about me. I just wanted to say that please don't burn me at the stake if this chapter doesn't meet your expectations. D: Any suggestions about fixing it up are accepted and appreciated, as always. Oh, and feel free to review, if you must (a bit of that reverse physcology for ya, eh?)**


	8. Citywide Rodeo

A/N: This chapter, and several others to follow this chapter in Angela's POV will take place in the city. Don't worry! I'm still going to alternate between Angela and Luke, and Luke's not going anywhere! You get TWO settings to keep up with! ;) So, with that in mind, here's the next installment- "Citywide Rodeo"! This one is pretty long. Sorry. I haven't updated in a few days, and I'm dying to progress the story.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harvest Moon or the song, "Citywide Rodeo," by the Weepies. **

Citywide Rodeo

_Angela's Point of View_

As soon as my feet hit the paved cement ground of the city, I was reminded of the reasons I left it in the first place. The streets were carpeted in trash and oil stains, the noise levels were nearly ear shattering, the entire place seemed to be crawling with people, and the air just smelled…polluted, almost. I wrinkled my nose, and kept my face down as Mother led me through the streets, chattering a million miles a minute, pushing her way through crowds of people in her quest to hail a taxi cab. Finally, a yellow metal monster pulled up beside us, and we slid into the backseat.

Mother gave the driver our destination, and we were on our way. She continued to drone on about my sisters, Chrissa and Norah, and how wonderful everything would be now that I was back, and yada yada yada. I tuned her out immediately and leaned my head against the cool glass window, and turned my thoughts to- who else- Luke. I had been silently lamenting about my stupidity and how awful I was for leaving him there, alone, for the past day and a half. Everything he had said to, or rather, yelled at me was true. I had built a life on Waffle Island. I couldn't just turn around and leave it whenever the going got tough.

But, in all honesty, I had been missing my family for years. Even though it was entirely my decision to leave the city, there was a piece of me that still lived there. I think that's why I left.

As the cab pulled up to the apartment building, I stepped out, somewhat in awe. So much had changed in the past three years; I couldn't believe this was the same home that I had grown up in. The flowerbeds were all blooming, brilliant bursts of purple, red, and blue; the trim of the apartments was a different, charcoaly color, and, most significantly, there were baby playthings littering my family's balcony. My heart sank as I recognized the brightly colored, strictly plastic toys.

_How can my mother be so dense? _I wondered as she practically sprinted up the stairwell, still talking away. She hadn't even noticed my silence. Then again, my mother wasn't the most…attentive woman in the world, per se.

My head pulsed as she finally reached the third floor and walked excitedly over to the fifth door. Sticking a key into the golden padlock on the door, she swung it open and announced, "Look who's ba-ack!"

Pounding feet reverberated as my sisters appeared in the living room. Chrissa, eighteen years old now, squealed and ran over to me immediately, throwing her thin, pale arms around my neck. Her blue eyes shone with excitement as she squealed again. "Oh my GOD! Angela! I missed you so much!" She swung her waist-length raven hair over her tiny shoulders, and released me to jump up and down excitedly. Despite the sinking feeling in my chest, I laughed. I gripped her bony shoulders to calm her down, and took a good look at her. "Chris, where the heck are your clothes?" I reprimanded, eyeing the tiny swatch of fabric that barely covered her chest, and the barely-there piece of denim that looked like it belonged on one of her dolls. She rolled her eyes at me and scoffed.

"You sound like Mom, Angela," she groaned. "Believe me, this is actually a pretty modest outfit."

I sighed, and turned my attention over to my quieter sibling. Unfortunately, Norah was toting something on her hip that distracted me, to say the least. It was all I could do not to cry out as I spotted the adorable infant on her mother's hip. My eyes must have bugged out of my head, because Norah laughed, a sprightly, tinkling sound that reminded me of the bell I used to call in my livestock from the field.

"Angela, this is Willow," Norah said, thrusting the hip holding the baby over to me. Willow cooed, clapping her hands adorably. Instinctively, my eyes slid over to the ring finger of my sister's left hand, not surprised to see it obnoxiously bare. My mother must have followed my gaze, because she cleared her throat and said, a bit too energetically, "Isn't Willow adorable?" The proud grandma walked over to the baby and picked her up, cooing sweet things into Willow's seashell-shaped baby ears.

"Ma, you never told me that Norah was pregnant." I tried to sound nonchalant, but my tone was pretty scathing. Mother avoided my glare as she bounced the baby on her hip, but Norah picked up on my anxiety.

"Well, it wasn't exactly…planned."

"Ah." I couldn't believe it. I never thought my oldest sister would be so stupid as to get herself knocked up before even getting married. She was nineteen, for Goddess' sake! I frowned, disapproving, as Norah bent over to cuddle her baby girl, who looked to be at least several months old. Chrissa shuffled her feet uncomfortably, and yet again, I wondered if I had made a mistake in coming to the city.

"I feel ridiculous," I complained as Chrissa attacked me with a powder brush. The siblings from hell had convinced me to go clubbing with them. I had frowned, wondering who was going to take care of Willow, but Norah had argued, "It's no big deal. Mom watches her all the time." I had taken on a strangely maternal relationship with the baby girl in the past few hours, and it made me reluctant to leave her with my mother. But, here I was, locked up in the room Chrissa and Mom shared, clothed in a pink plaid halter top and a tiny, hip-squeezing leather skirt that was cutting off the circulation to my legs. I fidgeted uncomfortably as Norah tackled my unruly, cowlicked hair and Chrissa did my makeup, and they both sent a barrage of questions my way.

"So, how's Luke?" Chrissa giggled sweetly. She had always had a crush on Luke, I suspected, and I bit my lip. "He's good," I responded just as sweetly. _At least, I hope he's good… I need to call him, ASAP._

"And the farm? Your animals are still, like, alive, and stuff? Remember the goldfishes that we always killed by accident when we were five and six?" Norah reminisced, pumping gel into her hand and then distributing it throughout my hazelnut hair. I had laughed distantly, thinking of my prized cow that had just given birth, and I had callously sold her baby.

Finally, the questions stopped- with one subject very obviously avoided. My hand slid to my stomach as Chrissa and Norah exchanged a wary glance over my head. Silently, I stood up to face myself in the mirror. I couldn't believe the reflection I saw.

"Damn, you're hot," Chrissa breathed, sighing as she studied her own reflection next to me. I rolled my eyes, but inside, I was almost bursting with joy. My hair had finally been tamed down to a pretty, straight bob, a barrette firmly holding the one cowlick that refused to stay down. Eyeliner and shadow framed my eyes, making them look startlingly green. My lips were delicately lined and filled in, and looked full for the first time in my life. I hated to admit it, but this was the first time in my life where I actually felt appealing and sexy. And to think that my annoying sisters had accomplished this—I shook my head and tried my best to smile. Chris took one hand, and Norah grabbed the other, and we left the apartment to go to one of the hottest clubs in town.

As soon as we entered the smoky building, I was remarkably out of my comfort zone. The strobe lights made my head hurt, the music was so loud that you had to yell just to be heard, and the dancing was, well, less than modest. Chrissa and Norah instantly abandoned me to go shake their asses on the dance floor, and I turned away, embarrassed for them.

A man, probably in his twenties, stepped in front of me, grinning like a drunk. "Hey, s-sexy," he slurred, grabbing my arm. "Come dance w-with me." Disgustedly, I slipped out of his grasp, and headed over to the open bar.

Plopping down on one of the plush stools, I sighed and dropped my head in my hands. I felt ridiculous, like a little girl playing dress-up in her mommy's makeup and clothes. I wiped absently at my face, longing to just sink into the floorboards and magically transport back to Waffle Town. I didn't belong here, and it took a miscarriage and a fight to realize where my true home was.

I missed Luke. That was the one issue that kept returning to my mind. In the past tow years, I had never left his side. We were always glued together, at festivals, parties, or at the Bar, stealing kisses whenever we could, even before we were married. I missed his touch, missed the way he looked at me like I was the only one he saw, missed the way he made me feel like I was the most special girl in the world.

"I want to go home…" I muttered. The girl next to me laughed, and I looked up, startled that she could even hear me in this atmosphere. Her eyes were a striking red, and not from the alcohol. That was her normal eye color, I assumed. Curly blonde hair draped around her bare shoulders. She was scantily clad as well, and was exotically beautiful, but she had a calming aura about her that made me like her at once.

"Too much for you?" she asked, gesturing at the crowded club. I nodded.

"Yeah. I'm not exactly used to it," I admitted.

"Where are you from?" she yelled over the noise, raising her eyebrows at me.

"Um, well, I grew up here, but I've been living on a little island for the past three years." It sounded so strange, to be describing Waffle Island to someone else, a stranger.

"Oh. Well, why'd you come back?"

"I miscarried, and my mother wanted me to come home." I was amazed at how easily the words left my lips.

"Oh? You married?" The blonde asked, eyeing my ring finger.

"Yeah, yeah," I quickly assured her, nervously balling my hands into fists. "My ring fell off. I've been married to him for a year now. It was our first kid I lost"

"Oh. "

"Um, yeah. I just… I miss my husband, you know?"

"Can I give you some advice?" The blonde said bluntly, eyeing me with an air of seriousness.

"Um, sure?"

"Listen, your family will always be there for you. They're not going anywhere, right? But your husband, he needs you. And you need him. And right now, he's probably hurting just as bad as you are, especially if you just miscarried. But there's nowhere for him to run. You need to get on the next ferry back to your home, and be with your husband. Your family will understand."

I sat there, absorbing this information. I had known all of it, all along, but it had taken a stranger in a club to confirm that the city was not where I needed to be.

The blonde stood up, saying, "Well, I've got to go meet someone, but you think about what I said, okay?" She started to walk away, but I yelled after her, "Hey, I never got your name."

The pretty blonde turned back around, red eyes glinting. "Me? I'm Eve." She turned back around and disappeared into the masses of people, leaving me sitting there in a daze.

A/N: Yep, I used Eve from Magical Melody. I always pictured her in a club in a city for some reason, so I just incorporated her into the story.

**Quick clarifications:**

**Chrissa is Angela's eighteen-year-old sister.**

**Norah is nineteen, and mother to Willow, who is about five or six months old.**

Naomi is Angela's mom.

**OK, loveys, review! ;)**


	9. Lures

**A/N: OK, I love all of you reviewers. Seriously. You all rock. Your comments give me the warm fuzzies, for serious. Keep 'em coming; y'all are my INSPIRATION! *cookies for everyone***

**Lures**

_Luke's POV_

Slowly turning the gold band in my fingers, I could feel the warmth from my fingers slowly heating it. Strands of blue fell over my eyes, but I didn't bother to brush them out of my face. It was kinda comforting, in a strange way…it reminded me that I was still there, a physical, living being, and not a wispy ghost.

Puppy whimpered and pawed at the ring. It slipped from my fingers, and rolled under the table, where it came to a stop by a loose floorboard. I sighed, and got on my hands and knees to crawl under the table. The ring still managed to glint, even though the shadows from the table all but encased it. I tucked the ring tightly in my palm, and started to back out, when I spotted a piece of paper barely sticking out from under the floorboard. Curious, I snatched it up, and then backed out from under the table.

I stood up, placed the ring on the cool wooden table, and then sat down in one of the chairs. The paper was wrinkled and smudged, but Angela's insanely neat handwriting stood out against the messiness of the parchment. I unfolded a corner, flattened it on the table, and began to read:

_Dear Baby:_

_I feel so strange writing to you. I mean, I can barely believe you're even there. I guess it hasn't really sunk in yet. When Dr. Jin told us that I was pregnant with you, your daddy was so excited that he must've ran around the house fifty times, yelling and hollering so loud that he frightened the animals. Your daddy is one special guy, Baby. If you're a girl, I hope you marry a boy like him. And if you're a boy, then I hope you turn out to be exactly like him._

_Dear Baby:_

_Ooh, my stomach feels like it's crawling, but I guess that's just you. I'm writing this against the tile in the bathroom, where I am currently balled up, a glass of soda by my side and a big porcelain toilet in front of my face. It's worth it, though. Your daddy must've announced to the entire town fifty times over how he's going to be a daddy very soon. I can't wait, either. Uh oh, here we go again…_

_Dear Baby: _

_Well, everything they say about pregnancy is true. But if this is all that I have to put up with, then it's certainly worth it. My tummy is starting to swell up. Your daddy is constantly telling me to turn sideways so he can record my belly's bigness with a camera. Haha. My heart swells with love whenever I think of you, and how little time there is before I can hold you in my arms. I'm so thrilled and joyful, and your father is, as well. We love you, baby._

_Dear Baby:_

_We are starting to build your nursery, and, oh, baby, it's gorgeous. There's all kinds of things that I want to show you: the cutest little booties, the perfect crib that we already have on layaway, but, I especially want you to see my Grandmother's rocking chair that has just arrived today. I am so excited to sit in it and sing to you. I'm already thinking of my favorite lullabies from when I was little. I've been writing them all down in this cute little "Baby Scrapbook." I'll eventually copy all these notes down there, but I kind of like writing them on this little piece of paper. Who would think that something so small could make me so happy? Well, life's funny like that sometimes, I guess._

I paused for a moment. I reached up to brush the now-bothersome blue strands of hair out of my eyes. But my fingers touched wetness beneath my eyes. Tears. I ignored them and kept reading on. The next entry was different. The paper it was written on was tearstained and the ink blotched. My heart clenched, but I forced myself to read the words.

_Dear Baby:_

_Well, for whatever reason, it just wasn't meant to be. I hate that phrase more than anything in the entire world, but it's true. I can still see myself rocking you to sleep, singing lullabies, wiping your tears away, but those visions are faint now. Is this what shock feels like? Baby, I want you to know that your daddy and I still love you more than life itself. That sounds pretty Hallmark-card, but it's true. Even though I will never even get the chance to see you, I love you. Nothing could ever change that._

I sniffled, feeling another batch of tears stream out of my eyes. Frustrated, I wiped them away with my sleeve, and then stood up. I left the paper there on the table. Crossing my arms over my chest, I walked over to the window, feeling the fading sunlight rain down on my face. I felt like curling up in a ball and falling asleep, comatose until the time when I could wake up and everything would be okay. But that was just a fantasy now.

*-*-*-*

I guess I _did _fall asleep, because Puppy's barking awoke me a few hours later. Dazed, I stared over at the Border collie, who was prancing around a cockroach and barking his tiny little puppy head off.

I walked over to inspect. The bug scurried around aimlessly, obviously startled by the obnoxious little dog. I raised my heel to end the creature's scrambling, but found myself unable to do so. Who was I to decide what creature should live, and which should die?

Instead, I kneeled down and pulled some boxes out of the pantry. I pulled a sleeve of graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows- you never know when the s'mores mood will strike, so you gotta stock up- and started breaking little pieces off. I must've sat there for an hour, making a little trail out of the door for the roach with tiny pieces of white stickiness and crumbling brown crackers, trying to keep Puppy from gobbling it up.

I sat there, watching, Puppy curled up tight on my lap, until the roach finally made its way outdoors. Long after, I was still positioned on the floor, just thinking about how much the small things in life really _do_ make a difference.


	10. Flickering Fragments

Flickering Fragments

_Angela's POV_

Chrissa squealed as she held up a tiny halter-top, blue and sheer, to her body. "Isn't it _adorable?"_ she asked me. I rolled my eyes at her and continued thumbing through the clothes racks.

"Yeah, adorable for a baby doll," Norah scoffed from across the aisle. Her shopping cart was filled nearly to the rim with tiny infant clothes and toys, and she kept piling more things on. She caught me looking at her cart, met my eye, and then waggled a credit card at me. "Child support," she laughed.

That comment really pissed me off, for some reason. Here we were, at some stupid little boutique that just happened to sell both revealing clothes and baby accessories (hmm, wonder if the two are somehow linked together?) in one fell swoop, and Norah was blowing all of her child support money. Sure, much of it was for the baby, but there were definitely at least three pairs of jeans in there, too. And I'm pretty sure a five-month-old has no need for Maybelline mascara and hoop earrings.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about Norah's child. I mean, Willow in and of herself was completely adorable, and lovable, and made me wish that I had at least gotten the chance to hold my child. But Norah, upon closer inspection, seemed to take her responsibilities as a mother for granted. In fact, she had confessed to me that she hadn't even wanted Willow in the first place, but Mom wouldn't let her get an abortion.

How screwed up is that? I prayed every single day of my marriage and pregnancy for a healthy baby, and it had died before even getting an opportunity to live. My immature, dependent sister didn't even want her child, apparently wasn't in that serious of a relationship, and she still was granted a perfect little angel? It didn't make sense.

"Angela, you're spacing out again," Chrissa reminded me, tapping her five-inch heeled shoe against the tile. She held up the blue halter to her body again, frowning as she examined her reflection in a full-length mirror. "Ugh, I'm so fat," she complained, biting her lip pathetically.

"Oh, stop fishing," Norah groaned, throwing a onesie at the mass of black hair that we could see.

More than ever, I wanted to go _home._ I had been so frustrated when I had gotten online and learned that the next ferry to Waffle Town was in two days. _That's not soon enough, _I had thought, homesickness washing over me like a wave. While I was online, I had written a long, detailed email to Luke, telling him how sorry I was and how much I wanted to be there with him, but the next ferry wasn't for a couple of days.

He hadn't responded.

So, while my sisters paraded around the shopping district of the city, chatting with each other, the friends that they just "happened" to "run into" in their favorite stores, and any guys that gave them a second glance, I had been daydreaming about the clear skies, clean air, and friendly environment of Waffle Town. Unfortunately, my slightly bratty sisters made it their jobs to ensure that I devoted my attention to materialistic things. Like Chrissa's halter-in-question.

"Don't get it. It's the wrong color for you," I advised, not mentioning that the cut of the fabric would make her boobs look big (well, bigger than the push-up bra she tried to hide allowed).

"Like you know anything about coloring," Chrissa scoffed, clearly insulted. I shrugged, not willing to fight with my baby sister over a piece of cloth.

We left the boutique eventually, and it didn't take long for Chrissa to squeal again. "Ohmigod, there's that store!" she cried, pointing vapidly at one of many specialty stores that lined the street.

"Oh YEAH!" Norah giggled. The siblings from the very dark place each grabbed one of my hands and pulled me towards a store.

"_No,"_ I gasped. My face flushed as I read the store moniker: "Dirty Little Secret."

"I am NOT going in there," I protested, but my sisters ignored me.

"Ohmigod!" Chrissa exclaimed again (boy, I was really getting sick of all the peppiness that exuded from that girl) as soon as we walked- rather, they dragged me- into the store. She giggled as she held up an embarrassingly minimal red number and waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively. Norah laughed, again reminding me of tinkling bells. I shook my head furiously; glancing around to make sure no one was staring at us.

"Oh, no," Norah gasped between peals of laughter. She held up an even tinier slip, lacy and black. Just looking at it made me feel violated.

I had to leave the store, until my ridiculously loud sisters piled out of the store. To my horror, they were each carrying a bag with the name of the store plastered onto each one, which they proceeded to thrust at me. "Oh, no," I laughed. "If there's any 'dirty little secrets' in those bags, they're all yours."

Suddenly, a loud burst of music sounded close to my ear. I whirled around, confused, and then I saw Norah pull a cell phone out of her pocket.

"Hello?" she asked, plugging one ear with her finger so she could hear better.

…

"No, this is her sister, Norah."

…

"Uh, well, is it really important?"

…

"She's going to be home in _two freaking days! _Can't you just leave her alone until then?"

…

"Oh." Norah's face drained as she put her hand over the receiver. Handing the small black phone to me, she stated, "It's for you."

Confused, I answered. "Hello?"

"Angela?" Dr. Jin's voice was immediately recognizable, slightly nasal but very serious.

"This is she. What's up, doc?"

"You're going to have to return to the island right away. There's been an accident."


	11. Woven Emotions

**Woven Emotions**

_Luke's POV_

The all-too-familiar mechanical bleeping in the clinic made me uncomfortable. It brought back too many thoughts, too many horrific memories from "that night" as it was infamously referred to. Each robotic pulse sent shivers down my spine, and I wanted to crawl the walls.

In fact, I wanted to _anything _rather than just lay there in the hospital bed. It bothered me to have to lie still, and was nearly impossible, in fact. My fidgeting was obviously bothering Dr. Jin, who kept glaring at me from the top of his square-rimmed glasses. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and he snapped at me, "Will you _please _settle down?"

"Can't you get, like, bedsores from staying in one place for too long?" I asked nervously.

Jin sighed. "Do you have a concentrated area that feels excessively itchy or sore?"

"Uh, no."

"Then you don't have a bed sore," Jin scowled and turned his attention back to his computer screen, where an article about Gaucher Disease was pulled up. I rolled my eyes, and twiddled my thumbs obnoxiously.

"So…" I muttered. _Hmm, now, let's list the things that are going wrong, shall we? First, Angela left you. That's a bummer. Then, you stabbed yourself with the shears. Ooh, burn. And finally, your dog is at someone else's house, being taken care of by a stupid, muscular blacksmith, because you're a klutz. Man, your life is a big cesspool of failure, isn't it?_

My side, which was patched up with layers and layers of gauze, felt sticky and achy. I silently cursed myself for even attempting to shear that stupid ewe, which kept bleating and running away from me. Well, I guess I couldn't exactly blame her- who wouldn't run from a crazed, blue-haired man with sharp scissors in his hand?

"Would you like something to read, Luke?" Jin sighed, grabbing a stack of magazines and handing them over to me. I thumbed through them and groaned inwardly.

_Crisis: The __Actinic Cheilitis__ Condition- _boring.

_Medical Mystery: __Vacuolar Myopathy- _boring.

_YOU SHOULD KNOW: __Iridocyclitis__- _boring.

_Sexual Habits- _hmm.

Intrigued, I opened it up to a random page, and was incredibly disappointed to see walls of text about the reproductive organs. Disturbed, I flung the magazine stack onto the sheets, which earned me yet another disapproving glare from Jin. Once he turned back around, I stuck my tongue out at him like a child.

After a while- I remember it well, because I had already catalogued and named all of the water spots on the ceiling- I heard the front door open and shut, followed by a brief conversation between the newcomer and Irene, the nurse. Jin stood up and straightened his coat, then descended the stairs that led up to the second floor, where my bed was.

I thought the footsteps on the stairs were Jin's, but was surprised to see a small brunette head pop up in the doorway. My skin bristled slightly as Angela's eyes swept over me, but that apprehensive reaction disappeared the moment I recognized the sincere remorse and guilt in her eyes. I wordlessly held my arms out, and she sobbed, and then ran into them, hugging me tightly.

"Careful," I gasped, wincing as her rope-hard arms wrapped around my damaged side. She jumped back, looking at me guiltily.

"Luke, I'm so sorry-" she began, tears already running down her face. But I cut her off, holding a palm up to her face.

"Shh. It's okay. I know." And it was true. Somehow, somewhere, deep inside of me, I knew that she was truly sorry. Maybe it was the pathetic look on her face, or maybe it was the box of chocolates she had in her hand. I don't know.

She sat down next to me and placed a hand gently over the gauze that was layered over my wound. "Does it hurt very badly?" she asked, rubbing her hand in a small circle.

"Not really," I lied.

"Irene told me what happened- when I got here. The entire ride back, I was worried sick- Jin's not exactly a huge talker, so he didn't tell me much more than 'there was an accident.' I didn't know if you were comatose, or dead, or what!" She buried her face into my chest and closed her eyes. I reached up to her head and twisted a lock of brown hair around my finger.

"I love you," I reminded her, leaning forward slightly to kiss her hair. She lifted her head up to meet my lips. One of the joys of marriage is relearning the things you take for granted in your partner, like a soft pair of lips that just seem to fit with yours like a jigsaw puzzle. I broke off the kiss to brush a piece of hair away from her eyes, and asked, "I thought the next ferry wasn't for another few days."

"Well, there's usually two boats that pick up tourists," she explained. "The next one that would've dropped me off at the Toucan Island wouldn't even be at the city until tomorrow, so Pascal just arranged to come and pick me up at the city dock."

"That was nice," I commented, not really paying attention to her words, since her clothes distracted my attention momentarily. "What are you _wearing?" _I gaped. She slapped me playfully on the arm.

"It's called a tank top," she pouted, pretending to be offended. "I can wear them if I want to."

"Oh, I'm not stopping you," I mumbled. She scoffed at me, then rolled her eyes and leaned forward to kiss me again.

*-*-*-*

"Ahh, watch it," I hissed, grunting as the door to our farmhouse swung painfully on me. I limped inside as Angela grabbed the door. "Sorry," she apologized, grabbing her suitcase and dragging it in.

Owen, the blacksmith's apprentice, appeared in our doorway. Puppy yipped as he spotted me, and began tugging furiously at the leash that was attached to his neck. Alas, the little dog was no match for the mountain of a man that Owen was. He chuckled in his deep, throaty bass, and then handed the leash over to me. Immediately, the lead slipped out of my grasp as Puppy bolted for Angela, howling happily as he jumped onto her leg. She smiled and patted his head cordially, then turned to raise her eyebrows at me.

"It slipped," I grumbled, clutching my side dramatically. "Plus, I'm handicapped."

"Thanks, Owen," Angela said, ignoring the pity party I was hosting for myself. He saluted, which made her laugh. I smiled at him gratefully as he walked outside, and out of view (ah, who am I kidding? That guy can't _walk _anywhere. Every time his feet hit the ground it's like an earthquake!).

Puppy soon lost his interest in Angela, and trotted over to "his" spot on my recliner. "I'm never going to see that chair again," I chuckled, watching the Border collie curl up and promptly fall asleep.

I turned around to see Angela staring at me with a strange look on her face. "What?" I asked, wondering if I was in trouble already. She hesitated, and then grabbed a bag and walked over to me.

"It's too bad you went and got hurt," she whispered, leaning over like she was sharing a secret with me. "I wanted you to test-run these toys." She wordlessly handed me the bag, and I opened it curiously.

_What's Angela doing with toys? Toys are for kids. Is this some kind of sadistic joke, or-_

"Oh."

_Not __**that**__ kind of toy._

**A/N: **

**:) **

**Review!!! OR ELSE.**


	12. Hope?

A/N: I'm not a big fan of writing lemon, so… I'm skipping the sex scene. This is, um, afterwards. God, this is awkward for me to write, so I'm just going to shut up now and let you read. XD Enjoy! :)

**Hope?**

Angela's POV

Luke was propped up on the bed, lying on his good side, absently tracing circles over my bare breast. "My side kind of hurts," he complained softly.

"You're the one who wanted to do this," I reminded him, a soft smile playing upon my lips.

"That's not completely fair. You set me up for it," he whined. I laughed. He smiled, and then bent over to kiss my neck. He gently trailed a finger up my torso, and I shivered. _The fire's still there, _I thought to myself contentedly, watching goosebumps erupt on my skin beneath Luke's stroke. He finally kissed my mouth, softly, like he was afraid I would break. It was Luke's traditional kiss- tender and warm, like he was. I melted into his touch and, for a moment, I forgot about everything else.

*-*-*-*

The next week was surprisingly uneventful. I was trying to get back into the swing of things after a long hiatus.

"Come _on,_ you stupid cow," I groaned as I futilely pushed against Reike, my milk cow's leathery hide. She didn't budge, instead choosing to stay rooted in the field where she was chewing her cud. I dug my heels into the ground and pushed harder, only to slip against the slick grass and fall on my behind.

"Oomph," I grunted, hitting the ground hard. Embarrassed, I stood up, brushing grass off of my jeans. "Fine, you stupid bovine," I growled. She remained calm, ignoring me as she chomped at the fresh grass. In the distance, my ewe, Annabelle, bleated desperately as she rammed against a calf in competition for the sunniest spot in the field.

"If you guys don't knock it off, I'm putting you _all _back in the barn," I warned. Needless to say, they all disregarded me. Rolling my eyes and scoffing, I turned back around to go water my fields.

An hour later, all that resulted from the watering attempt was a soaked tank top and barely glistening foliage. "This is harder than it looks," I remarked to Puppy, who was lying in the sun on a soft patch of grass in the distance. He cocked his head at me, and then rested his head on his paws and whined softly. Still gazing at me, his tail started thumping against the ground, and I couldn't help but smile. That dumb dog was growing on me.

"Geez, what'd you do, fall in the river?" A voice from behind me made me jump about three feet in the air. Puppy yipped and jumped up, bolting over to Luke, who had just appeared behind me. Luke chuckled as he bent over to pet Puppy on the head. "Hard day?" he asked me, eyeing my wet clothes.

"You have no idea," I mumbled. He grinned and straightened up, only to pull me close to him despite my dripping attire. He kissed me firmly on the mouth, and I swear that my feet started to float above the ground.

"Eww, gross!"

Startled, we both turned around to see Chloe and Taylor wrinkling their noses and pointing at us. I blushed deeply, and Luke waved lightheartedly at the kids, who immediately forgot the fact that we had just been caught in the act of PDA to wave back at Luke. Then, they skipped off to the Caramel Falls, chatting about how gross cooties were, and how they would never kiss the opposite gender. I grinned at Luke, who shaded his eyes from the sun to watch the pair wander off.

"They're so cute," I remarked. Willow, my sister Norah's baby, popped into my mind at that moment for some reason. I brushed the memory away. I was determined not to get upset today. I wanted to prove to Luke, and to myself, that I could definitely handle my lifestyle as a rancher. And that included not letting memories bog me down. I knew that I could get past this, if I had someone like Luke to support me.

We sat down on the porch, opening a little picnic basket that contained two box lunches that Luke had made for us. "Mmm, looks good," I said approvingly as Luke handed me a tomato sandwich, my favorite. He smiled as he unwrapped a section of tin foil that was casing a piece of pizza, which he proceeded to stuff into his mouth. I laughed as he attempted to chew and swallow the large, soggy triangle in one fell swoop. I delicately bit into the sandwich as he finally regained the ability to speak.

"So, anything new and exciting happen today?" he asked, scraping tomato sauce off of his face.

"Um, well, I found out that Jenny's expecting," I said, referring to my sweet-natured, tawny horse.

Luke swallowed. "Oh."

"Yeah. Um, you hear or do anything exciting today?" I asked, taking another bite of my sandwich.

"Well, yeah. Toby dropped by today to get some wood to patch up the ferry, and he told me that Renee is expecting," he said cautiously. He pretended to be nonchalant, digging through the picnic basket for a napkin, but I could sense the tension in his voice.

"Oh. That's…nice," I replied perkily. "Um, Luke, you don't have to tiptoe around me. I'm perfectly fine with pregnancies," I added; biting into my sandwich once more, feeling the tomato seeds wedge between my teeth, flavor exploding into my mouth. Luke opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it. He knew better than to fight this fight. I smiled reassuringly at him, and then resumed eating my sub.

Hesitantly, Luke reached over to grab my hand. In the process, the sandwich slipped out of my hand, onto my light-colored khaki pants. "Shoot," I mumbled, swiping at the spreading red stain with a napkin. Luke flushed ruefully, but I stopped him before he burst into peals of apology. "It's okay," I giggled. "Heaven knows that I'm in the wrong profession if a little stain bothers me. I'll be right back; I'm going to go sponge this off, okay?" He nodded, and I stood up.

In the bathroom, I moistened a cloth and scrubbed at the mark. While my hands were occupied, my brain started to wander. The little red stain on the crotch of my khakis reminded me that it should be time for my period soon.

_Let's see… Spring 14__th__ I ended, so…_

I counted mentally. The date didn't seem right, so I began again. I counted the days between my menstrual cycles at least three times, and each time I came to the same conclusion- my period was late.

Against my better judgement, I could feel my hopes soaring through the ceiling. _Don't get your hopes up, _my conscience warned me. _You'll only be disappointed. _But my inner soul still felt giddy, hopeful. My conscience sighed as I ran out of the bathroom and towards the phone. Dialing quickly, I put the receiver to my ear and waited. The other line picked up on the first ring.

"Hello! Waffle Island General Store!"

"Hi, hi!" I babbled excitedly. "Do you guys carry pregnancy tests?"


	13. Fading Sunset

**Author's Note: Reviewers, you continue your frightening reign of awesomeness with every chapter. Keep it coming! :)**

**Alrighty then, on with the story! **

**Fading Sunset**

_Luke's POV_

Angela had been taking a really long time in the bathroom, so I went inside to make sure she hadn't fallen in.

"Angie? You okay?" I called inside, a dreadful sense of déjà vu crashing over me like a wave. I shrugged it off and went in the house. Angela was just hanging up the phone, a dazed look on her face.

"You okay?" I asked, concerned. She nodded.

"Yeah…I'll be right back, okay?" She threw a quick smile my way, grabbed her pocketbook, and hastily left the house. I stared after her.

"Uh, do you want me to put your lunch in the fridge?" I called after her dumbly. She yelled something at me, but I couldn't understand, so I just assumed that it was a "yes," and I put the sandwich in the refrigerator.

_What was that all about?_

*-*-*-*

After a while, I had to leave to go back to work. Over my shoulder, my rucksack was nestled tightly in the crook where my neck and shoulder blade fused together, the place where I held my axe rested when I wasn't using it. My dad frowned upon this; he said it was dangerous to hold a sharp tool so close to my neck. In a weird way, though, I trusted myself not to cut my neck open. I felt like I had enough control over my tool, enough experience to know when the cool iron was pressing too close to the vein. It was almost like an adrenaline rush; it made me powerful. _I _was in control of something.

Bo, my cousin and coworker, grunted in effort as he swung haphazardly against a rough tree trunk. The wood barely splintered as he dug the blade out of the bark. His face flushed as he examined the tiny dent, and then he sighed and swung again. The task of repeatedly swinging his tool was tedious, according to the tow-headed boy. For him, carpentry was no more than a mere profession. For me, it was a lifestyle. I loved the rush, the split second where there was nothing more than a fluid movement that propelled such an object faster than you could keep track of it, before all you could hear was splintering wood, all you could feel was the vibrations stinging up through the wooden handle into your arms.

God, I loved my job.

Bo looked over as I quickly felled a small tree, and then stood back to grin in satisfaction, watching the leaves settle against the loose dirt. My cousin groaned, looking at the tiny marks he was leaving in the ever-present trunk of the tree that refused to budge for him.

"I'll never get the hang of this," he complained bitterly. I frowned sympathetically, but offered up no advice. It only irritated him more, I had learned in the past. Most of the time, he just got so frustrated with my "advice" that something usually got tossed at my head. When you're constantly working with sharp tools, you don't really want to take that chance. So I just smiled and nodded. As I watched, Bo's bandana slipped off his head as he grunted, and I stifled a laugh. Unfortunately, my version of stifled laughter includes a very red face and shaking shoulders, so Bo caught on quickly.

"It's getting pretty late," he scowled, looking over at the sunset. "Shouldn't you be getting home?" His tone was tinged with sarcasm; he had been so upset when I moved out of my dad's house, and he never let me forget it. I cringed, but nodded.

"Yeah, you're right," I sighed, shading my eyes from the fading sun, which was sinking fast behind the mountain range. Bo grimaced as I set my axe behind "our" little nook, a compact space between two boulders and a tree. I smiled hesitantly as Bo halfheartedly waved, and then I set off for home. My thoughts were consumed with Bo and his deteriorating opinion of me- that is, until I got home and saw all the lights turned out, which was unusual, because Angela always kept them on after nightfall.

"Angie?" I called as I walked up the steps to the porch. Maybe she was still out in the barns or something. I shrugged and opened the door, turning on the living room light as I did.

"Huh?" I muttered, confused, as I observed the scene in the living room. Little white boxes were scattered across the floor, accompanying a slew of tiny white sticks. Those sticks looked achingly familiar, but I couldn't put a finger on it. I walked over to one and picked it up. It was kinda cold, and moist, and there was a little box with a blue line running through-

EW EW EW EW EW EW.

Disgustedly, I flung the stick onto the ground and hopped around like it had burnt my fingers, howling. Angela came running out of the bathroom, staring at me like I had just kicked a puppy.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to hide a smile.

"Your pee stick!" I howled, pointing at it on the ground. "It's all over my hands! Gross! Gross! Ew!" Making a face, I wiped my hands on my already-dirty jeans.

"So, you're more interested in the pee aspect of pregnancy testing then the actual results?" Angela's tone was biting, her posture even more so. I knew I was in trouble.

"Oh. Oh, yeah. So…are you- you know, pregnant?" I didn't know if the emotion I felt was fear, or anxiety, or whatever.

"That's the thing. I- I don't know," Angela said, sinking down to the floor. I walked over to her side and sat down next to her, rubbing her back. "Most of the tests I took were negative, but…my period is never late, and it is now, so I don't know what to think."

"Well, let's go to the Clinic," I suggested after a short pause.

*-*-*-*

As the doorbell on the Clinic door chimed, Dr. Jin looked up, surprised to see Angela and me standing awkwardly in the doorway. My wife was gripping my hand tightly, like she was terrified of actually finding out the results. Dr. Jin raised his thin eyebrows at me.

"Did you pull your stitches out?" he asked me, eyeing my still-bandaged side. I scowled in contempt and placed my free hand on the gauze. "Noo," I mumbled defensively.

"Um, can you do a pregnancy test?" Angela awkwardly asked, blushing furiously. "I've tried those little sticks, and they were pretty inconclusive."

"Come with me, please," Jin said, waving his hand up to the room upstairs. Angela squeezed my hand, and then ascended giddily, me and Jin following close behind.

It only took several minutes to perform the test. Irene had popped in, excitedly anticipating the results. She was grinning at us like a glutton eyes a piece of meat. It kinda creeped me out.

Finally, Dr. Jin pulled away from Angela's side, rolling back a few feet in his little rolly-stool thingy.

"Well?" Irene and Angela nervously chimed together.

"Well… you're not pregnant," Dr. Jin told us sympathetically, almost sounding apologetic. Angela's face fell slightly, and Irene hurried over to her side. The nurse was a stand-in mother now, apparently, and it was all I could do to bite my lip and not say anything.

"Not…wait, not pregnant?" Angela restated, obviously taken aback. "But…I was sure…"

"There's definitely no baby in there. I'm sorry. But you're at the point where you can definitely start trying again," Dr. Jin explained, a crease emerging between his eyebrows.

Again, I couldn't identify the emotions I felt at that moment. I couldn't tell if I was relieved that there was no baby, but then again, I might have been heartbroken. I wasn't sure. When I was shell-shocked, my emotions tended to retreat into my heart until my brain could sort everything out, which gave the feelings plenty of time to fester and take over.

Call it a character flaw, I guess.

*-*-*-*

"Well, what do you think of all of this?" I asked Angela tentatively as we walked home later. My arm was locked tightly around her shoulders, and her hand was in my back pocket. I'm sure we looked like a pair of teenagers as we navigated through the streets, guided by the faint glow of the streetlights that lined the dirt roads. She hesitated before answering,

"Well, in a way, I'm almost relieved. I mean, I'm not sure if I could handle the emotional baggage of the miscarriage, and a pregnancy at the same time, you know? It seems a little strenuous."

"True," I agreed.

"But, at the same time, I'm really, really disappointed. In the time period where I was convinced I was pregnant again, I think I was- happy. I kept planning, thinking, 'okay, well, we still have that crib on layaway, and we could always redo the nursery,' and things like that. I think my imagination got away with me. I think I wanted to be pregnant."

By that time, we were almost home. I unlocked the front door and held it open for Angela, and she walked in and sat down on the bed, kicking off her tennis shoes.

"So, do you want to try for a baby again?" I asked carefully. Baby stuff was dangerous territory, and I needed to tread those waters carefully.

"I- I think so. That's the conclusion I keep coming back to, every time. I want a baby, Luke. I wanna be a mommy, and I think that you want to be a daddy, too. I want that." She paused, then grasped my hand and continued, "Do… do _you_ want that? Do _you_ want a baby?"

"Are you kidding me?" A huge grin broke out on my face. "That's the thing I want most in this world. Other than your happiness, Angela." I looked at the bed we were sitting on and raised my eyebrows. Gesturing, I asked, "Well? If we're going to start trying again-"

Angela laughed as we sank down onto the sheets, quickly losing layers of clothing. "Where did you put those toys?" I whispered softly in her ear before leaning over to flick the bedside light off.


	14. Rekindled

RekindledAngela's Point of View

Ever since we had decided to start trying for a baby again, I could feel a little spark of hope igniting in my heart. I wanted to protect that little flame of hope, protect it from the crap in the world. And I was willing to do whatever it took.

I guess you could say I got a little obsessed with my fecundity. Which is humiliating, yes; perhaps some might call it disturbing. But I wanted to make sure that this time, any pregnancy that started in my body would finish it's course safely. So I bought ovulation kits- the kind that tells you when you are most fertile- and hoped for the best.

Luke didn't exactly complain, either.

However, I still had a nagging voice chirping in my head, telling me that I wasn't ready for this yet.

One night, as the crickets chirped outside of our window and the moon shone brightly overhead, I propped myself up on my elbows and whispered, "Hey."

"Yeah?" Luke asked groggily.

"I'm scared." I sat up, twisting the sheets around my body. I'm sure I looked like a little girl who had crawled into mommy and daddy's bed during a thunderstorm at that moment, but I didn't care.

"What are you scared of, Angie?" Luke said, sitting up as well. He reached over to grasp my hand.

"Everything." My voice barely reached the "whispering" decibel. "I'm not sure- what if I miscarry again? I don't think I could bear it."

"Honey…" Luke sounded tired as he attempted to reassure me. "That's not going to happen. It's scientifically proven that if you miscarry once, it's 50 percent less likely to occur again. Now go to sleep."

"Really? Have you, you know, researched this stuff? Statistics, and all?" I asked skeptically.

"No. I pulled it out of my ass. Now go to sleep."

I hit him with a pillow. "Don't _joke _about that!" I scolded, affronted. He put his hands up in self-defense, and then grabbed both of my wrists tightly.

"Listen, Angela," he began. An air of significance clouded the air at that moment. "Which is worse? The risk of a miscarriage, or the knowledge that you never got the opportunity to find out?" He kissed my hand tenderly, then settled back on his pillow and promptly fell asleep. I, however, barely slept a wink that night. It took everything in me to digest my husband's words.

*-*-*-*

"Stupid. Cow. GO. IN. THE. BARN." I shrieked in frustration as I rammed into the giant animal's body, trying to force it forward. Still, Reike remained in her sun-drenched spot in my field, unmoving. Frustrated, I started to yell at her. "Look, dummy! I still have an entire field of potatoes to harvest! Do you see the little roots sticking out of the ground? I KNOW YOU DO. Because they're practically _begging _to be harvested! And I can't satisfy that need until YOU move into the barn, okay? Look, I need to get the crops into the shipping bin by seven! Do you not understand that? _What is wrong with you?!"_

I glowered and threw my hands up in defeat. "Fine. Stay out here. Just don't come mooing to me when it gets dark and all the other animals are inside."

Spinning around to make my point, I came face to face with a very perplexed-looking Chloe. She raised an eyebrow at me and started to open her mouth, but I scurried away, humiliated.

_Note to self: reasoning with/yelling at a cow- in public, no less- not the smartest thing you could do, idiot._

As the day progressed, I proceeded to completely lose my temper at the potatoes, my watering can, and Puppy, who kept scurrying around underfoot as I tried to pull up the potato roots. "Puppy, _cool it_!" I screeched as he zipped around my feet in a frenzied semicircle, digging up the soil with his too-sharp claws. He came to a halting stop, gave me a pitying glance, and then resumed his reign of terror on my field. Finally, my nerves reached a breaking point, and I dragged the Border collie into the farmhouse, muttering under my breath the entire way.

Once inside the house, I flopped down onto my comfortable bed, bouncing several times before finally lying completely still. I realized how tired I was all of a sudden. Plus, I had a random burst of heartburn as well. I measured one against the other, trying to decide if my heartburn was bad enough to pry myself off the bed and grab the Tums, but while I was considering it, I fell asleep, curled up in the fetal position on Luke's side of the bed.

What seemed like mere minutes later, someone was shaking my shoulder gently and whispering in my ear. I unhappily opened my eyes to see Luke standing over me with a concerned look on his face.

"What? What is so important that you felt the need to wake me up from my nap? God, Luke! I was friggin' sleeping! Can't you respect that?" I spat at him, shooting daggers with my eyes. The wounded look on his face made me regret my attitude, but I was _tired._ And cross.

"I was just trying to get you to get under the covers. It's supposed to be cold tonight." He turned away, busily sorting out the mail on the table. I sighed and stood up, running my fingers through my messy brown hair. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, wondering if I would ever stop being surprised at how rock-hard his abs were.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, burying my face in his shoulder. "I had a bad day, and I have heartburn on top of it."

Luke turned around to pull me into his arms. Comfort was always his strong point. Had a bad day? Go get a hug from Luke. Your life falling apart? He'll buy you a hot cocoa and a cookie. Feeling bitchy and irritable? He'll be sympathetic and uncomplaining. Wordlessly, he handed me the bottle of Tums with a grin on his face. I smiled at him, and then popped one into my mouth, chewing slowly.

"Yeah, I kind of guessed that you had a crappy day when I saw Reike still in the field," he chuckled, watching me chew. "And you have mud all over your clothes. Which, in turn, is now on the sheets."

"Well, I'm _sorry _if I can't keep a clean house, Luke," I snapped, swallowing the chalky tablet. He rolled his eyes at me, and I scoffed at him.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to pee."

*-*-*-*

"Mmm…" I sighed as I quickly downed a cup of chocolate milk in the afternoon several days later. "This is good stuff, Puppy." He yipped excitedly and wagged his tail. His favorite times of day were when I happened to be in the kitchen, which was happening more and more often, I had realized. The little scavenger practically lived for the times I dropped morsels of human food on the ground. He was getting bigger and speedier by the day, yet he still managed to retain his adorable personality.

That damned dog was beginning to grow on me.

I patted his head affectionately and started towards the door, ready to continue my work. Unfortunately, I made it no further than the living room when an unmistakable wave of nausea washed over me. I gripped my stomach and dashed for the bathroom, barely reaching the porcelain bowl before my stomach contents erupted out of my mouth.

"Lovely…" I groaned, grabbing a washcloth and swiping at my chops. I groaned and leaned back against the cabinet doors.

And then it hit me.

My eyes widened as I recalled where I remembered this scene. Now, to understand what I mean, you need to know that I _hate _chocolate milk, with a passion. But I had such a strong craving for it all of a sudden that I couldn't help but fix myself a frothy glass of the stuff. And I'm not exactly sure if the dairy triggered my queasiness, or if there were an underlying cause…

Like pregnancy.

I balled my hands into fists, trying to remember what else I had felt during my first pregnancy. I had been a total bitch to any living creature I came in contact with- check. Cravings- check. Nausea- check.

New symptom- dizziness. That could have been just from the shock, though.

"Am I pregnant?" I whispered to myself, hesitantly reaching up to open the cabinet door, where I still had some pregnancy tests tucked away.

An hour later, I had three white sticks lying out on the counter. All three had little pink plus signs in the little display box. All I could hear was the sound of my breath, all I could feel was the cold marble countertop, and all I could see were those marvelous positive tests. Which might explain why it took a few tries for Luke's voice to actually get through to me.

"Huh, honey?" I called, dazed.

"I said, the oven's…" Luke's voice trailed off as he walked into the bathroom and saw the sticks sitting there. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes, and he grinned the biggest grin I've ever seen in my life.

"Really?"

"I- I think so," I replied. "I mean, I feel like crap, and the tests say…"

"Let's go to the Clinic, just to make sure," Luke elatedly suggested, grabbing my hand and nearly dragging me out of the door.

"What were you saying about the oven?" I asked, grabbing my coat on the way out.

"Huh? Oh, the oven's on…oh, shit. Hold on a sec," he said as he bolted into the kitchen, fumbling with the oven knobs until the red light flicked off. I giggled as we dashed out of the door, fueled by raw hope.

*-*-*-*

"Well?" I asked breathlessly, watching Jin analyze the test results. Luke squeezed my shoulder excitedly as Irene stood by. A stoic look was painted on her face, but I recognized the excitement in the midwife's eyes. She lived for pregnancies, especially ones with happy endings, like I wanted this one to be.

"Well, what?" Jin asked, stringing us along. Luke groaned, and I had to grip my seat to keep from stomping over and shaking the skinny doctor's shoulders- violently. I guess he saw the blood in my eyes, because he quickly put his hands up in surrender.

"You are most definitely pregnant. Congratulations." I had never seen the doctor smile before, so I was more than a little taken aback when a grin broke out on his usually serious face.

Irene gasped elatedly, and I squealed. Luke pumped his fist in the air, and then grabbed my shoulders and kissed my lips fervently. I laughed, still not believing that it was actually real.

After everything- all the trauma, the heartache, the tribulations- we had been given a second chance. My little flame of hope exploded into a giant wildfire, a frenzy of mixed emotions that threatened to take over and make me run around the village like a banshee, screaming like a child.

Author's Note: OK, admit it- you totally knew I was going to let her get pregnant again. :) But never fear, faithful (or at least semi-faithful, haha) readers! The story is far from over! I've still got tricks up my sleeve! Stick around, and keep your reviews coming!


	15. Looking For Angel

**Looking For Angels.**Angela's POV

"Hi, my baby," I whispered, delicately running my fingers over my still-flat stomach. "Hi, honey bear." Luke grinned ecstatically, twisting his fingers with mine as I lay them flat on my stomach.

"Ooh, wait, I gotta pee," I grunted, sitting up on the bed. Luke rolled his eyes, but moved his hands off of my waist.

"Urgh," I groaned as I reemerged from the bathroom several minutes later. "Oomph. And other pregnancy sounds. Now available at bookstores near you." I sat down in Luke's recliner, barely avoiding Puppy as he jumped off.

"Ha ha. Your sequel should be 'Pregnancy and You- for Males.'" Luke laughed from the kitchen.

"Ooh, but that sounds kind of creepy. Like, it's the guy who's pregnant or something kinky like that," I complained jokingly.

"If I could, I would," he said, walking over to where I sat and placing a bowl of apple slices in front of me.

"Oh my god! Luke! How did you know I was _craving _these?" I gasped, sticking two slices at once in my mouth.

"Chipmunk," Luke teased, watching me attempt to chew the mouthful of fruit. "And you've only eaten, like, seven apples today. Call it a hunch."

"Still, it's sweet," I argued after I was able to swallow. I kissed him on the cheek, accidentally leaving behind a piece of apple skin on his face. He wrinkled his nose, wiped at his cheek, and then dropped the skin on my head.

"Ew!" I squealed, getting up and shaking my head violently. "Ew! Gross! You're so disgusting!" I sounded like a teenager as I complained nosily, I'm sure. Luke laughed, and then saw the look in my eyes. He yelped as I grabbed a dishtowel and wound it up tightly, snapping it on his retreating back. I giggled like a schoolgirl as I chased him around the house, Puppy barking at and tripping us the entire time.

Suddenly, Luke turned around and grabbed my wrists, making me drop the dishtowel, which Puppy immediately grabbed and trotted away with. Luke pulled me up to his body until every part of me touched every part of him. He released my hands to cup my face with his calloused palms, and then kissed me deeply. Instantly, I melted into his kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers into his hair. He twisted a strand of my hair around his fingers, and then started trailing kisses down my tanned neck. I sighed, feeling goose bumps explode onto my skin. I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the muscles of his torso beneath his shirt. His hands left my face to reach behind my waist, sliding up under my shirt. I could feel the warmth of his fingers beneath my blouse, and I shivered.

Luke pulled away from me suddenly to grasp my shoulders. Inwardly, my mind screamed for him to continue. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he murmured, kissing my lips again. "You…are the single most stunning woman I have ever seen in my entire life."

"Oh, stop it," I whispered, blushing. It wasn't true; at least, I didn't think so. "You're just saying that to get laid."

"Why would you say that?" Luke asked, a crease emerging between his eyebrows.

"I- I'm not a beauty, Luke. That's my sisters," I laughed, tracing a pattern into his chest.

"No. I've seen your sisters, and, no offense to them, but neither of 'em have anything on you."

"Well, for our kid's sake, let's just hope he looks like you," I murmured. Luke rolled his eyes at me again, and then sighed in defeat.

"Do I need to start listing off the ways that you are beautiful?" Without waiting for and answer, he pulled away from me to count on his fingers. "You've got the prettiest eyes in the world. You have these incredibly long eyelashes that brush your cheek every time you blink. Your hair is always, like, perfect, and it smells amazing. Your lips are naturally gorgeous, and you will never, ever need any lip gunk. Or any makeup, for that matter, because you're so naturally beautiful. You-"

I cut him off suddenly by kissing him on the lips. "You're sweet," I murmured, trying to change the subject.

I had never had a good self-esteem. I don't know what happened, but I never seemed to grow out of my "awkward, self-aware teen" stage. It didn't help that my sisters are completely and totally striking, either. Whenever we went out in public together, people assumed I was the "friend" who was tagging along with the prettier girls. At least, that's what I always imagined whenever we went out.

I had always chalked up my insecurities to my lack of romantic interests in grade school. I wondered if I was defective as I watched countless good-looking, slightly nervous boys coming to pick up my giddy and confident sisters. I silently watched my crushes fawn over other girls, and then I would turn away, mutely giving up a little bit more. Never once did a male even give me a second glance, other than the boys who were already dating my sisters and felt the obligation to be nice to me in hopes that they would earn some brownie points with Chrissa or Norah. In fact, Luke had been my first serious boyfriend.

_I'm pathetic._

Luke grasped my hands tightly, sensing my discomfort, and pulled me up close to him, this time not uttering a word. He just held me until all my insecurities melted away, which was one of his abilities that I loved most about him.

*-*-*-*

That night, after the animals were safely tucked in the barn and the sun was fading behind Mount Gelato, I set down a dish of pasta on the table and sat down to the first "real" dinner with my husband in months. After I miscarried, we just grabbed whatever was in the fridge. Sometimes I was so distracted that I would go for days with no more than a couple of crackers.

Luke grinned ecstatically as he eyed my famous meat sauce, which he devoured every time, barely leaving me any. He smiled at me as I sat down across from him, and then reached across to start shoveling chow onto his plate. I smirked and shook my head, deciding not to remark on my husband's somewhat juvenile antics. They gave him a certain charm, I guess.

"So, how was your day?" I asked, delicately wrapping a piece of spaghetti around my fork and sticking the wad into my mouth.

"Ith wath okee, Ah jues," Luke tried to say between a huge mouthful of pasta.

"Swallow, Luke," I chided, grinning. He gulped, and then tried again.

"It was okay, I guess," he repeated, wiping red sauce off of his mouth with his wrist. "I almost hacked off my foot in the forest, because that stupid ferret tripped me mid-swing."

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

"Well, obviously, Angela," Luke teased. "Or else I wouldn't be here right now." I rolled my eyes at him

"So, how about you? Anything new and exciting in your life?" Luke asked, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

"I'm _pregnant, _Luke. I don't think I really need anymore excitement, do you?"

"I _meant, _anything _recently _happen to you?" Luke rolled his eyes.

"What? You're bored with the idea of being a daddy already? Sheesh!" I had forgotten how enjoyable it was to tease him. I had forgotten how fun it was to do a lot of things. Simple pleasures in life were often overlooked, taken for granted. I made a silent vow at that moment to appreciate _everything_ more.

"No, that's not what I- what I meant, was-" Luke fumbled for words, and glared at me when I burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah, you're a comedienne," he grumbled, face flushing.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, trying to smother my giggles. Luke threw his napkin at me playfully, and I ducked.

Right at that moment, something startled the hell out of me. I jumped up, and Luke's eyes bugged out of his head.

"Was that a baby crying, or am I finally going insane?" I asked him quietly.

"No, I heard it too," Luke whispered across the table. "But who-"

"You don't think Renee's baby came, like, a season early, do you?"

"That's not likely-"

A sharp, insistent knocking on the door interrupted us. A baby- definitely a baby, I was sure of it- wailed pitifully, and my stupid maternal instincts made my heart melt instantly. Not looking over at Luke, I slowly walked over to the door and cracked it open.

"Hello?" I asked,

"Angela?" A thick, ragged voice sounded through the door. I shot Luke a glance, and then realization hit me like a wave. "Oh my god…" I muttered as I placed a finger on where I knew that voice. I threw open the door.

Standing on the porch was a scruffy silhouette. Her face was scratched and bloody, her eyes bloodshot and teary. Streaks ran down her bleeding cheeks. The thick voice was a result of a split lip, already swollen beyond recognition. A quick scan revealed multiple bruises all over the skin that I could see on her arms and legs, and she was favoring her right leg slightly.

A baby, scared but physically unharmed, was sitting in a stroller right behind the girl.

"Norah?" I asked incredulously.


	16. Trace the Photos

A/N: I AM HORRIBLE, AND I AM SORRY. D8

**I haven't updated in…what, three weeks? Eeek! I haven't forgotten about this; I just had exams and finals and then, Spring Break, and…gah, just…life.**

ANYWAYS, I'm back. And I won't take three-week breaks (GAH!) anymore. ^^

Trace the PhotosLuke's POV

"Norah?"

I practically sprinted over to Angela, who was standing at the door, gaping. At the sight of my face popping out of the door, Norah promptly burst into tears.

She looked _terrible. _Her hair was snarled and little clumps of blood tinted it red after meshing with the cuts and scrapes on her face. Her lip was busted, and there was a huge bruise that was shaped like a fist on her cheek. Black streaks of mascara ran down her face, distributing salty streams of tears directly into her open wounds. Bruises dotted her thin, pale arms, and there was something definitely wrong with her leg. She looked as if she had taken a trip through a wood chip shredder.

"What the hell happened to you?" I gasped. Immediately, I regretted it. Angela whirled around and gave me a "way to go, Mister Sensitive," glare.

"Come in, honey," Angela crooned, immediately putting on her adopted mother act, ushering her sister inside. She plucked Willow out of the stroller and handed the infant to me.

"Uh, Angela, don't you think, uh, you should take her?" I stammered, holding the baby like an expensive vase.

"No, Luke! I need to talk to Norah. Just…you know, entertain her for a few minutes." Angela pulled a chair out for her dark-haired sister. Norah sat down, letting her gnarled hair curtain her bloodied face. I stared down at the tiny human in my hands, feeling a surge of something I had never felt before. Willow was obviously frightened, but the second that Angela placed her in my arms, she had calmed down. She was cooing to herself, playing with her fingers like she had just discovered the appendages growing out of her arms.

"Hi, baby. Hi, Willow," I whispered, rocking my niece back and forth in my arms. I walked over to the table where my wife and my sister-in-law were.

"Start at the beginning," Angela said in her soft no-nonsense tone of voice.

Norah sniffled, and then began to rasp, "I ran away."

"What?" Angela looked shell-shocked, and I'm sure I did, too. You didn't just "run away" from the Kozak family. It was unheard of.

"Mom…said I wasn't a good mother. Said I was partying too much. She… she was going to take Willow…sue for custody…" Norah burst into a fresh batch of heart-wrenching tears, gasping for breath between sobs.

"Oh, honey," Angela cooed, wrapping her rope-hard arm around Norah.

"So, I went to Willow's dad's house, thinking that he would, you know, maybe want me back. I needed a place to stay," Norah choked out.

"Wait, the boyfriend who went to prison for three years for battery?" Angela's face looked incredulous. Norah winced at her condemning tone.

"I had nowhere else to go, Angie," she said softly, wiping at her eyes. "All I wanted to do was stay there for a few days, because my friend Denise was out of town for two days, and then I was going to go stay with her. But…"

"But what?" I interjected. Willow whimpered and started to pluck at my arm hairs. I hissed and quickly shifted her so that her head was resting on my shoulder.

"I… I didn't know he was back home so early. I…_we _needed money, and I knew where he kept his. So, when he was at work, I snuck 300G into my purse. But…he came back before I could find a better hiding place…and he…beat me up."

"Oh my God," Angela gasped. A look of horror painted her face, streaking worry lines on her forehead and pain in her eyes.

"I ran, Angie. I didn't want him to hurt the baby." Norah turned to me and held her arms out for Willow. I gave her the baby girl somewhat reluctantly. Norah continued, "I haven't eaten in three days, I'm pretty sure my leg is broken, and I have nowhere else to go, Angie. Nowhere."

"Yes, you do," Angela said firmly. Her mask of shock had been replaced with one of determination, and I knew what she was going to say before the words left her lips. Call it "marital intuition."

"You're going to stay with us," Angela announced decisively, looking at me and nodding.

"Angela, I couldn't possibly…" Norah argued weakly, cradling her baby in her bruised arms.

"Yes, you can. And you are. But first, you need to go to the Clinic. Good lord, child, you look like shit."

"Thanks, sis," Norah scoffed, insulted.

"Come on." Angela pulled her out of the chair and helped Norah limp to the door. "We'll be back in a little while, Luke," she called back to me, handing me the little one again. The door shut firmly behind them, leaving me staring at Willow.

"It's just you and me for a little while, kiddo," I murmured, sitting down on my recliner. "God, you're beautiful." She cooed in response, flashing me a toothless grin that flaunted her dimples. My heart melted. "Hey, baby. Hi, baby," I whispered, rocking Willow back and forth in my arms. We sat like that for several minutes, me gently swaying the baby, until her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

"Uhhh… What now?" I asked myself quietly, at a loss. So I just sat there, holding the snoozing baby until the door opened and shut again, accompanied by Angela and Norah.

*-*-*-*

"Her leg's good and broke," Angela told me as we lay in bed that night. Norah was sleeping soundly in a bed that we had borrowed from Hannah and Cain. Gray, the farmhand, usually used it, but he was at his grandfather's house in Mineral Town for the week. Willow was sleeping in a crib that Doctor Jin found in storage somewhere. The whole town had come together to lend us a helping hand in aiding our injured sister.

"Geez. All of this over a little baby," I murmured, placing my hand on Angela's stomach. She covered my hand with her own, interlocking her fingers with mine.

"I'm so glad we're not in that situation," she whispered. "I mean, I know that you would never break my leg over 300G. I like that peace of mind. I feel safe with you." Her face flushed, noticeable even in the shadow of the night. I responded by sidling closer to her and pulling her into my arms, keeping her close to my body. She closed her eyes and sighed. "You were really good with that baby, too," she mentioned nonchalantly.

"You think?" I whispered into her hair.

"Yeah." She paused for a moment, and then said, "You're going to be a great daddy, Luke." She settled into my arms, sighed again, and, within minutes, joined Norah and Willow in slumber.

I, however, didn't get a wink of sleep that night.


	17. Inspired Chemistry

Author's Note: Hey, guys. Sorry for the delayed updates. It's been a crazy couple of weeks. But school's ending pretty soon, and my schedule's thinning out. Still, I can't make promises on updates! Sorry! Expect at least one update every week; that's probably the least I can do for my lovely, lovely readers (and reviewers, hint hint! 8D) Inspired ChemistryAngela's POV

And just like that, our peace was broken.

Of course, I didn't mind sheltering my sister from her life for a while. I mean, everyone needs an escape from reality now and then, and I'd be a hypocrite to tell her to face her life. I'm not exactly the poster child for sticking with your family, no matter what.

And don't get me wrong. I love my sister. But she has these, how shall I call them- quirks. Like the fact that she doesn't wake up until noon, even if her baby is crying and hollering and hungry. Or the thing with the whole makeup tornado in the bathroom. Oh, and the vegan diet, which means she can only eat nuts and tofu, which cost about ten thousand dollars a pound, when there's tons of fresh milk and eggs in the fridge.

But, I digress.

"Where are we _going_?" Norah whined like a two-year-old as I pushed _her _child in the stroller over rocks and cracks in the sidewalk in the Ganache Mine District. Norah was hobbling along on a pair of crutches, moaning and groaning the entire way.

"I told you, I have to go get some tomato seeds," I said patiently. "Aren't you the one who refused to eat eggs for lunch? 'I want a garden salad,' I believe you said. Well, I have to go _buy _the tomatoes so that you can _eat _them."

"Why can't we just go to the store and buy some fresh ones?"

"Because they don't sell pesticide-covered, half-rotted, bug-infested produce at the General Store, thank God," I said, getting irritated.

"But how long do tomatoes take to grow?" Norah was being stubborn again, and it was getting on my nerves- again.

"Norah, if I have to say one more thing to you-" I was cut off by a rather loud, unsubtle gasp that came from my doe-eyed sister's mouth.

"Who is _that?" _she hissed through her teeth, nodding over at Owen, the blacksmith's great-nephew and apprentice. The muscular guy was pounding away at a rock outside of the mines, and he had worked up quite a sweat. Even from where we were standing, we could see the sheen of moisture on his rippling muscles.

"Oh. That's Owen," I said, waving him off. "He's a nice guy; he and Luke are practically best friends. He watches Puppy sometimes."

"Awwww…he sounds sweet…." Norah said, lowering her voice and staring at Owen.

"No. Norah. No. Bad." I said, recognizing the glint in her eye. I would've reached out and shook her shoulder, but the crutches created a formidable hurdle. Not to prevent me from shaking her shoulder, but to hit me repeatedly in the head. And I wouldn't put it past her; this is the girl who once threw seven teacups at me for intruding on a tea party.

"What?" Norah said innocently, still ogling Owen.

"You _know _what. Don't go chasing after another guy, right after one did this to you!" I probably sounded scolding as I motioned to the injuries on Norah's body, but I couldn't help it. My protective, overbearing older sister gene was kicking in.

"What? Is he aggressive or something?" Norah asked, turning back to face me.

"No," I sighed. "I just don't think you're ready to handle a relationship-" Of course, I was too late. Owen had noticed us standing awkwardly fifty feet away from the mouth of the mine, and he was coming over, waving a tree-trunk thick arm at us.

"Oh my God, he's coming over here. And I look like shit!" Norah hissed, steadying herself on one crutch as she finger-brushed her hair and blinking her eyes innocently. I was about to say something, but at that moment, a figure practically blocked out the sun.

"Hey, Angie," Owen bellowed in his deep voice. His smile was practically as big as he was; he was one of the rare people in the world who were _always _happy to see you.

"Hi, Ow-"

"Hi! Hi. I'm Norah. I'm Angie's sister," Norah babbled, cutting me off. She smiled sweetly, turning on the full charm.

"Oh. Hi, Norah. I'm Owen," he frowned slightly as he looked over my sister. I was about ready to slug him in the face for checking out my sister when he boomed, "What happened? You look like a truck hit you. Are you okay?"

Okay, so he's not the subtlest.

"Oh. Um… I fell… out of a tree," Norah lied. My mouth fell open- I couldn't help it. Norah shot me a pleading glance, and continued.

"Yeah. I live in the city, so imagine my luck- there are only a few trees around where I live, and this little girl's balloon got caught in one of the branches of Tree #3. So I figure, okay, I'll just climb up and get the balloon, so this little girl won't cry anymore, right? And I managed to fall. It was crazy." Norah shook her head sadly, as a humble heroine should.

"Wow. That sucks," Owen said sympathetically. I looked at him in surprise. Was he really buying that pile of bullshit, or was he smarter than I thought he was? Only a true genius would pick up on Norah's insecurity and not question her further. But on the flip side, only a true idiot would believe her lie. It could go either way, I guess.

"Yeah. Well, it could've been worse, I guess," Norah sighed tragically, widening her eyes at Owen like a puppy dog. He smiled at her, and I knew, I _knew, _that I had just been introduced to a whole lot of babysitting.

"Um. So. I'm getting off work in just a few minutes. And, I don't normally do this, but…do you want to go have lunch with me?" Owen smiled tentatively, blushing.

Norah pretended to be surprised, and then pretended to be flattered, and then pretended to consider it. "Well, I was going to help Angie plant some tomato seeds, but she can handle it by herself, I'm sure. I'd love to go!"

I stood to the side awkwardly, realizing that this was a rather private moment, but what could I do? I didn't exactly choose to inadvertently play matchmaker. Why, oh why didn't I tell Norah that Owen was an insane asylum escapee with homicidal tendencies?

"Oh my _God, _Angela! Owen is so incredible!" Norah sang as she bumbled through the door five hours later. I resisted the urge to glare at her and instead nodded, which she took as a sign to rave about her date with Owen.

"We went to this little restaurant in this cute little hotel, you know the one?" she began.

"Well, considering there's only one hotel in the town…" I muttered.

"Anyways, the food there kinda sucked, but I didn't even notice, because I was so, like, captivated by him! Did you know that he has two brothers, Jacob and Michael, who both live in the city, too? I've never seen them before, though. But I'm glad I didn't, because he's eons better than any other guy in the world! Did you know that Owen weight-lifts? He's won championships before! And he let me feel his muscle, and, oh my God, it was huge! Well…"

It continued like that for the rest of the night. No matter how hard I tried to get away from my pesky little sister, she followed me, babbling about her _fantastic_ date with a _fantastic_ guy and her _fantastic_ life, until I finally lost it with her. I was in the kitchen, and I whirled around on my heel, pointing a butter knife at her.

"Norah, enough! Listen, I'm glad you found a good guy, who treats you well. But I've been watching _your _child all day long, while you go gallivanting off to God knows where! Now, I don't have a problem with watching Willow. You know that. But just don't get in over your head, okay? Don't depend on me for things that I might not be able to do. I'm not going to be able to watch Willow every time that you decide to go out on the town. Okay?" I pushed a loose lock of hair behind my ear and inhaled sharply.

Norah was silent for a moment, her eyes biting. "Well, I didn't realize I was such a _burden,_" she snapped. "I'll just take my child and go to bed, I guess!" She scooped Willow into her arms and started to stomp over to "her" bed. I watched her for about three seconds before calling after her, "You want supper?"

She stopped for a moment, and then turned around slowly. "Yes, please," she answered quietly. I smiled at her, and she hesitantly smiled back.

It would be a fun few weeks, for sure.


	18. Growing Tummies And Surprises

**((A/N: WHOOO, updates! Sorry it took so long. I got caught up in my life, and didn't really have a lot of time to dedicate to this story. And I didn't want to just crank out half-hearted attempts, because I've really come to be attached to this story. It's like my brainchild.**

**Anyways, I hope to finish this up in the next few chapters. And yes, I do have some more surprises. So, stay tuned! Don't touch that dial…er, back button.**

**Once again, I own nothing.))**

**Growing Tummies... and Surprises**

_Luke's Point of View_

"Luke…"

_Why does it always seem like my name is accompanied or immediately followed by a groan nowadays? _Turning to face my father, I pasted a large smile on my face and said, "What's up, Dad?"

"You're not chopping enough wood," he said gruffly. He pointed to a fresh pile that I had just collected earlier that day, and then crossed his arms over his hefty chest. "We have three building expansions to do this week. And you're not pulling your weight."

"Sorry, Dad. I'll do better." This was the only way to deal with my father; agree, promise to do better, and then try to change the subject. "So-"

"I know you've been stressed lately, son," he continued. "But you need to work and provide for your family. I can't cut you any slack just because you're my son."

"Sorry, Dad." I felt like a broken record. "But, can I make up for it tomorrow? There's something that I need to do at home."

"Luke, I've given you plenty of time off in the last few seasons," Dad said, an edge of steel in his voice. "I know how hard it must've been for you and Angela to lose the baby. And I know there's a lot to do to prepare for the one she's carrying now. But you can't just up and leave every time you feel like it. There's work that needs to be done. And don't think I'll let you off easy because you're my son."

I looked up at my father, suddenly exhausted. "Angela has a checkup. She's four weeks pregnant. That's about the time that she…" My voice trailed off. "She's scared it's going to happen again, and she wants me to be there. I need to be there. I'm sorry that I've taken so much personal time, and I'll make up for it. I'll chop wood in the middle of the night, if I have to. But my wife needs me right this very instant, and I'm going to that doctor's appointment. I'm sorry if that's not what you want to hear. But it's what's going to happen."

My father was silent. Then, "Good man." He nodded, and motioned at the door. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Grinning thankfully at my father, I merely nodded back in reply, and then ran out the door.

---

Approaching the Clinic with my wife was incredibly nerve-wracking. My heart was pounding against my ribcage, and anxiety pumped through my veins. I shared Angela's concern about losing this baby, too, and I was silently begging the Harvest Goddess for a healthy child. Norah had insisted on coming along, too—she had been upgraded from crutches to a walking cast, and was limping beside me. In her arms was a gurgling Willow, clapping her sticky hands together and throwing them in the air.

I opened the door for the women, and immediately felt the blast of AC emit from inside the building. Closing the door behind me, I helped Angela sit down in a chair, and then went to check in with the old nurse, Irene.

"Dr. Jin will see you right away," she rasped, looking adoringly at the baby in Norah's arms. Angela nodded, and tried to stand up. I hurried over to assist her, and she cast a grateful look at me before grunting and putting her hands on her backside.

"Thank the Goddess," she said. "That plastic chair is hell on my ass." Norah laughed, and Irene smiled uncertainly. Norah and Willow stayed behind in the waiting room as Irene led us back into the curtained-off area. She instructed Angela to lie down on an angled bed and pull her shirt up.

"Good afternoon, Angela. Luke," Jin's voice came from behind.

"Hi, doctor," I said. Angela was already looking anxiously at the screen, dark and blank though it was.

"How do you feel, Angela?" Jin asked, digging out his ultrasound equipment. He slathered some jelly-looking liquid on my wife's bare stomach, and then flipped a switch to turn on the monitor and tools.

"Queasy, swollen, bloated, sore, starving…" Angela recited. "Can't we do this later? I want to see my baby. Please?"

Jin looked at me, and I met his eye. He glanced back down at the brunette on the table and nodded. "Sure."

Angela's and my breath caught at the same instance. My heart stopped beating—no sick pun intended--- as Jin pressed a white object against Angie's stomach, searching for the heartbeat. Angela squeezed my hand tightly, and exhaled.

_Thump-thump._

Fixated, we all gasped collectively. "That's your baby's heartbeat," Jin announced proudly, moving the tool a little to the left. "See the head?" Actually, I couldn't make out much of anything. But Angela, choked up, cried out, "I see it. I see it."

Breaking my gaze away from the monitor for a mere second, I concentrated on the look on Jin's face. Slowly, it changed from one of satisfaction to one of confusion. Irene had the same look etched onto her wrinkled, aging face. Angela was too enraptured by the blurry image to notice anything in the world around her.

"Something wrong, doc?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Jin held his index finger up at me, motioning for me to wait. By then, Angela had caught onto the uneasiness, and was looking around the room in alarm.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, sounding like a scared child. "Something's wrong. Is she okay?"

It seemed like it took ages for Jin to nod his head. "Your babies are just fine."

We both exhaled in relief…and then realized what he had just said. Exchanging stricken glances, I spoke up. "Um…babies?"

Grinning widely, something _very _out of character for the normally somber doctor, Jin nodded. "Congratulations. You're having twins."

**((A/N: **

**Yes, twins. That was kind of the back story of this entire ordeal.**

**Sorry for the short chapter. They'll be longer in the near future.**

**Review, please and thank you. Cookies for everyone who leaves a comment!)) **


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